Stowaway
by irishfire
Summary: A stowaway is found in the cargo hold of Arthur's supply ship. She challenges the knights' loyalty, ideals, and most of all, patience. Now, FINALLY, officially Tristan OC
1. Default Chapter

Arthur sighed in contentment as he brought his horse to a stop on the crest of a hill not too far from the fort. Lancelot was beside him on his own steed and the other knights soon joined beside them looking down upon the grassy green valley. The fog had burned off in the bright morning sun and the sky that rarely showed its face was a bright, clear blue. It was a beautiful summer day, indeed, and Arthur had taken his knights out to enjoy the rare weather that God had blessed them with.

Arthur scanned the horizon, his eyes falling upon a lone rider peeking over the next hill across the valley. The lone rider was followed by a caravan of wagons bearing the Roman emblem. The five wagons were trailed by a man on foot and four cavalry soldiers. Arthur waited for more soldiers to crest the hill but none came.

"Only four soldiers?" Galahad asked in astonishment.

Tristan smirked, "Seems they have a death wish." Bors let out a low laugh hearing who the comment came from. The other knights smiled.

Arthur suddenly drew his sword, a dark demeanor coming over him and rode to meet the party. Lancelot kicked his horse into a gallop after getting over the surprise of the sudden change in mood. He caught up with Arthur and as they drew closer he saw the foot soldier was really a woman. Her hands were bound in front of her and a rope ran from her binds to the back end of the last cart. She had been forced to jog in wake of the cart as the soldiers behind her taunted her. The girl looking up suddenly, was startled by the vision of Arthur, Excalibur unsheathed, charging at her with the rest of the knights not far behind. She lost her footing and stumbled to the ground, not being able to get back on her feet while the cart dragged her flailing body. The soldiers, not having spotted Arthur or his knights, burst into uncontrollable laughter at the sight of the girl before them.

The wagons came to a sudden halt and the soldiers quieted as the leader spotted four knights blocking their path and three more riding up to meet them. "What is the meaning of this?" he yelled, angry that their entertainment for the journey was disrupted.

Arthur came to a stop beside the panting girl, Dagonet and Lancelot blocked the other soldiers from their commander with their horses. "I am Artorius Castus, commander of these knights, stationed by Rome at Hadrian's Wall." He spoke to a man that came forward on horseback, seemingly the leader of the group.

"I am Remus Caius, captain of the Roman ship that brought you these fresh supplies, courtesy of the Pope and the Holy Roman Church," the man replied.

"And this girl," Arthur inquired, getting off his horse, sword in hand, "what has she done to deserve such harsh treatment?" He went over to the girl where she knelt gasping for air.

"She's a stowaway and a thief!" Remus stated arrogantly. Galahad and Gowain rode up to keep an eye on the other soldiers as the tensions rose. Remus backed away slightly, "She was caught stealing from your supplies in the cargo hold."

"Thief or not, she is no animal," Arthur stated, taking his dagger from his belt and cutting her hands loose.

"She is a prisoner of Rome, Commander, not of Britain!" Remus yelled, furious that he had released his prisoner. He dismounted his horse and took hold of the girl's hair, hauling her to her feet, preventing her from running off.

"You are mistaken, Captain," Arthur corrected in a low, harsh voice, "If she was in fact stealing from my supplies, which you have yet to prove, she is my prisoner and indebted to me."

Tristan observed the skeptical with attentiveness. The woman was full of anger and hatred. Her face betrayed her emotions. Her jaw was clenched, nostrils flared, and green eyes squinted with fire in them. Her breath came in ragged intervals but he could not tell if that was from the physical exhaustion she was in or the rage in which she was experiencing.

He felt no need to warn Arthur of his observations for her anger was reserved for the Romans that had dragger her here, Remus in particular. She looked upon Arthur with appreciation and respect, a look he often received to those he played hero to. Arthur felt it was his sacred responsibility to liberate anyone in need of resue, though he could not ensure the freedom of those he cared for the most. It was this same obligation that got him and his knights into countless, otherwise unnecessary dangerous situations, the same obligation that irritated Lancelot to no end.

Lancelot sat back in his saddle watching with amusement as the two leaders fought over the thief. He was making his own observations of the mysterious woman. She wore a weathered green robe that would have matched her eyes perfectly if it weren't covered in dirt. The color of her hair entangled in the Roman captain's hand was the color of honey, shiny and smooth. She was tall and he imagined she was well toned to have walked this far from the nearest port, which was nearly a half day's trip on horseback.

"She will be returned to Rome where the courts will sentence her in the name of God!" Remus argued.

The girl's hand flashed out and before anyone could blink she held Arthur's dagger to Remus' throat. "I will not go back to Rome," she said through clenched teeth. All the men froze in shock.

The spell was finally broken after a few moments of silence by Lancelot's amused chuckles. "I believe that's your answer," he said smiling smugly at the Roman captain who had let go of the girl's hair.

She stepped away and Lancelot maneuvered his horse between the girl and her former captors. She turned to Arthur, giving him his dagger back. "I apologize for taking what I needed to stay alive aboard the ship. I only hoped for passage away from Rome. If you will not send me back, I will work for the debt which I owe you."

Arthur nodded his consent and turned to the leader once more, "Deliver my supplies to the fort, then head back to your ship. I wish not to see your face again." He sheathed his sword and called upon Lancelot.

"A ride, milady?" He held his hand out to her. She raised an eyebrow at his choice of words but took his hand nonetheless and he pulled her up onto his horse behind him. He couldn't help but like a woman who put the Romans in their place.


	2. The Return

Thanks for the reviews. This is a short chapter but it was to my liking to leave you in suspense. Hope it entertains.

* * *

"What is your name?" Lancelot turned his head to the side, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. They were on their way back to the fort, leaving the caravan of supplies and the Romans to fend for themselves in the unpredictable British wilderness. 

"Kayleigh," the woman behind him answered over the pounding hooves of the galloping horses. It was only a matter of time before they started asking questions she thought. She knew warriors were instinctively suspicious of everybody. She would need to think carefully on the answers she gave them. Wording makes all the difference and she was an expert at evading questions. They would get answers to their questions. Vague, ambiguous answers that when given could take on any meaning the receiver desires, but answers nevertheless. She knew she would not be able to get away with a lie, Tristan would see to that. He had been watching her on that field and it had felt as if he could see right through her. It scared her to think she couldn't hide herself from him. Hiding was her way of protecting herself, she had done it most of her life.

No, she wouldn't lie to these knights. She wasn't about to tell the truth either. The right answers would come to her in time but for the moment she was content on leaning back on the horse, taking in the scenery, and letting the wind blow through her hair. It had been a long time since she had felt this free.

"You're going to fall," Lancelot stated in a matter-of-fact tone. She hadn't been holding on to him as any other woman would have galloping at the speed they were.

"I assure you, I won't," she said slightly annoyed that the moment had been ruined. Horsemanship had been her expertise for years. When she was but a toddler her parents had put her on the back of the village sheepdog. She gradually moved up to larger animals until she was strong enough to keep herself on a horse at age five. Even at that young age she respected the powerful beast and it respected her in return. She felt a connection between her and the animal she didn't have the ability to explain then, and still couldn't as a grown woman.

The knights rode on silently, each with their own thoughts, which mostly consisted of curiosity toward the mysterious woman. Arthur was contemplating what questions he would ask and what he would do with the accused thief. Kayleigh was carefully considering which words to use to answer the questions that would undoubtedlycome. By the time they reached the gates to the fort the sun was setting, casting a rusty hue over the land.

Jols was waiting in the dusty courtyard to meet the commander and his men but did not expect to see a strange woman accompanying them. He stared at her stupidly as the knights came to a stop in front of him and dismounted. Kayleigh, ignoring Lancelot's outstretched hand, helped herself down from the horse and landed softly on the ground.

Obviously taken back by the woman's disregard towards him, Lancelot pulled his hand back quickly as if he'd touched a burning ember. Bors could barely stifle the laugh that was building in his throat. It is a strange day when Lancelot is rejected. Women usually make up excuses to be around him but this one seemed to overlook his attractive appearance. Lancelot looked on in confusion as she approached Arthur.

She stood in front of Arthur, all eyes on her, silently waiting for him to speak first. The knights stood around them watching on curiously while they sized each other up, eventually meeting each other's gaze. Arthur searched there for any hint as to the woman's identity and intentions. Kayleigh held his stare and watched wearily as he tried to form any opinion on her at all. Perplexed, he finally broke the silence and spoke, "Who are you?"

"There are many answers to that question, for I play many roles in my life," she replied.

Gowain scratched his head, "That's a complicated answer lady." He was growing impatient with every moment. She carried an air of false bravado that aggravated his already sour mood. He was tired and hungry and wished they would just get to the point so he could get a drink at the tavern. He was parched and hadn't had a good swig of wine since two days' past.

"'Tis a complicated question," she said, turning to glance at him. She studied him for a moment. To her, he looked more the barbarian than any of them. His hair falling down past his shoulders in a tangled mess. She imagined he would strike fear into the wildest of men.

"Tell me woman, is your primary role that of thief?" She grimaced at Arthur's accusation. "Do not take me as a fool, woman. I may have confiscated you from corrupted Romans but you do not yet know what future awaits you here. You are still under suspect, it would be good for you to answer my inquiries."

She realized that this man was smarter than she had anticipated. She would need to come up with more crafty explanations to satisfy him. "Forgive me for my ill manners, sir. My name is Kayleigh. I mean you and your knights no harm." Arthur examined her as she spoke, looking for any sign that she was lying. He found none and looked to Tristan to confirm, which he did with a slight nod.

"Very well. Jols, show her to a spare room and deliver her some food. Have the maid draw her a bath to clean her up." Jols broke his stare at Kayleigh and nodded at the commander. Arthur addressed Kayleigh once more before heading off to his quarters, "Rest tonight but think hard upon the manner in which you will address your situation. Tomorrow we will decide your fate. If you do not alter your demeanor, I promise you, your future will be ominous."


	3. Doubts

After Arthur disappeared into the shadows, the knights dispersed and Kayleigh followed Jols into the dimly lit corridor. She noted the turns they took and counted the steps to her room. It was a tactic her brother had taught her. He insisted that she do this whenever she visited someplace new, so she would know the way out blind. Her brother had always been her protector. Her mind wandered to thoughts of him. She had been without him now for two months, three weeks, and one day, and missed him terribly.

"Here it is," Jols stopped suddenly, jolting her back to the present. He took a torch from the wall and stepped inside the room. He used the flame to light a candle in the room revealing a dust covered desk and chair, a small blanket covered cot in the corner, a chest for personal effects to the right, and a shuttered window on the far end of the room.

"Apologies for the conditions," he said sincerely, swapping away a few cobwebs around the door frame. "We rarely have visitors."

"It will serve me well, thank you." _Sure as hell beats the rat-infested cargo hold_, she thought.

"I will send the cook's mate with some food. It may take the maid a few minutes to warm the water for your bath. I'll have her fetch you when it's ready. Good luck on making yourself comfortable," he gave her a half smile and Kayleigh returned a full one. _Finally, a man with a sense of humor_.

He left the room closing the door behind him. Kayleigh turned, looking around the room. How had it all come to this she wondered. A continent and a sea away from Rome and her life still hadn't improved. She crossed the room and pushed forth the shutters. She peered into the darkness and sneered when she caught sight of the fortress wall. She sighed heavily, the enormity of her dilemma sinking in.

"I am the fortunate one," she said aloud, trying to force the negativity out of her mind. But she was truly despairing in ever finding that new life she hoped for. A cool summer breeze blew through the window giving her the chills under her tattered robe. She closed the window and plopped down on the chair at the desk. She drew patterns in the dust with her fingertip pondering her situation.

Arthur could have left her to the hands of Rome. Why did he intervene? Were the tales told of him in Rome true? He let on that they were when he took her from the Romans. But he had transformed into a cold, dangerous man when they had returned to their fort. His threats frightened her, though she didn't show it. She resolved in that moment that she wouldn't give him any useful information about herself until he earned her trust. As far as she was concerned, he put up an honorable mask for Rome but unveiled his true nature behind his fortress walls where he could rein without challenge.

* * *

Dagonet walked up to the bar and ordered a plate of food. "Dag, where you been?" Bors shouted to him, motioning for him to join him at the table. Dagonet sauntered over taking in the scene. Vanora sat, belly swollen, on Bors' lap. She was pregnant with, what he thought was, their eleventh child. Next to the couple sat Gawain, gulping down a mug of wine, empty plate in front of him. His spirits seem to be higher, Dagonet noted as Gawain's drunken laughter came to his ear. Tristan was in the shadows using one of his daggers to clean the dirt from under his nails. He shook his head at Galahad, who stood atop the table in front of the small crowd recounting the day's events through a lively story. His youthful zeal and tendency to exaggerate made him a good narrator. 

"And then she said, 'I'm not going back to Rome, you son of a whore!'" Galahad said through slurred speech, receiving hearty laughs from the crowd. "She was about to slit his throat, and of course we were all hoping she would, but Lancelot interrupted, already trying to charm her into his bed!"

"Which he seemed to have succeeded," Bors said with a devilish smirk.

Galahad scanned the crowd from his vantage point but didn't see Lancelot, who would usually be flirting with the barmaids. He hopped off the table and took a seat across from Gawain. "She didn't seem too impressed by him," he said referring to how the woman, he now knew as Kayleigh, had ignored Lancelot's offer to help her from his horse. He had also seen the irritated look that she gave Lancelot on their ride back. She was a different kind of woman than the others he had met. He was anxious to hear what Arthur had planned for her future.

The audience that Galahad attracted had dissipated to find new entertainment, and Vanora had gotten up to resume her duties, leaving the men to speculate about the mysterious woman's past and identity.

"I don't like her," Gawain admitted.

"What's not to like?" Galahad found his friend's remark puzzling.

"I don't trust her. She's hiding something," he replied.

A light of amusement shined in Bors' eyes, "She's a woman, what harm can she be?"

Gawain turned to Bors, an eyebrow raised, "Have you forgotten so soon the dagger she held to the poor bastard's throat? Did you blink and miss the swiftness in which she took that weapon from Arthur, a trained knight nonetheless! She handled it with accuracy and confidence. That is not the first time she's threatened a life with a dagger, you can be certain. We don't know what other skills she has and to what purpose she'll use them."

The knights listened to him openly and thought upon his words. Galahad was reluctant to admit that he had a point. He didn't know anything about her. But that was why he was so eager to find out who she was.

"She's afraid," Tristan said from the shadows.

"Afraid of what? She seemed pretty fearless when she stood up for herself," Dagonet finally spoke. He was impressed by what she did. He didn't know one Roman female that would go against a Roman official. He almost felt pride for what she did. All women should have the ability and knowledge to defend themselves. Sadly, he knew Kayleigh was a rare breed.

He was ashamed to say that many of his brothers-in-arms used women to their advantage. Getting the pleasure they sought and discarding them the next morning like soiled rags. He had voiced his disdain in the ritual but did not interfere, for most of the women knew of the knights' reputations and didn't esteem themselves to higher standards. He hoped Kayleigh would have an effect on how the men treated women. Even though he had only known her a few hours, the actions she took showed him that she was a woman that demanded the respect of others. And maybe she could teach the women of this fort to demand that same respect themselves.

"Fear drives people to act in fearless ways," Tristan answered before fading away into the darkness, leaving the four knights with puzzled expressions on their faces.


	4. Introductions

Note: This is the longest chapter yet. I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks for the reviews. Thanks for the input Mustang Gal, I haven't decided who she will be with yet, if anyone. Anyone else have ideas? SpectralLady, her past will be unravel slowly. Hope it doesn't torment you too much. Dazzler, I'm trying to give her a few flaws to humanize her but not so much as to make a pansy of her. She's been through a lot of trials which have strengthened her. It's a tough balancing act. Now, without further ado, chapter four!

* * *

Arthur had stopped at the kitchen for some dinner before retiring to his room. He was on the last bite of beef when he heard a knock at his door. "Come in," he called. He wasn't surprised to see Lancelot cross the threshold into his quarters. Arthur nodded his greeting, swallowing the last of his meal. "Shouldn't you be over having a drink with the men and getting friendly with the women," he asked, "Or did that girl's attitude put out your fire?" 

"You were too harsh with her," Lancelot deducted.

"Was I?" Arthur looked at him, eyebrows raised. "She stole supplies that were meant for this fort. For you, for the men. Would you have them vulnerable to the Woads because of her?"

Lancelot sighed. He knew Arthur was only trying to protect the knights and villagers in the fort. "You know I would not wish such a thing. But you don't know what she took or her story behind it."

"I will tomorrow, if," he emphasized the word, "if she will tell it."

Lancelot nodded and left the room. He headed to the kitchen for some food before withdrawing to his room. He hoped for the girl's sake that she would not withhold information from Arthur. He was a kind man but he had his priorities. His priority was his men and keeping them alive long enough to enjoy the freedom that had been taken away from them.

* * *

Kayleigh sank deep into the bathtub, completely immersing her sore, filthy body. By the time she broke the surface again, the water had turned a rusty color from the blood and grime that had dissolved off of her. She sighed heavily and smiled at the maid, who picked up a sponge and started washing her back. The cook's mate had delivered a plate of food promptly to her room and she had devoured it before the steam had vanished in the cool air. 

She leaned her head back to allow the main, who had introduced herself as Lavena, to wash her matted hair. It had been a long time since she had received a bath and even longer since she had the company of another female. She gritted her teeth through the battle of untangling the mess. Finally, she was rewarded with the cool sensation of the rinse which consisted of a splash of peppermint oil.

Kayleigh dismissed Lavena to wash the rest of herself in private. Her hand lightly went over the places where she had received cuts and bruises from the mistreatment of the Romans earlier that day. In some places she could hardly tell where one bruise ended and another started. She cringed when she ran the sponge over her wrists where the rope that bound her had rubbed her raw. "No Roman will ever touch me again," she said in a determined voice.

Forgetting about the pain, she angrily scrubbed her wrists as if trying to remove the Roman fingerprints that had stained her life. She cried out in surprise when she looked down and saw blood seeping out of her wounds. Her anger vanished and the pain nearly blinded her. Lavena burst into the room hearing Kayleigh's anguished cries. She grabbed the cloth she reserved for drying and tried to stop the steady trickle of blood that came from Kayleigh's veins.

Once they got the bleeding to slow, Lavena retrieved some bandages and an old dress she no longer fit into. She wrapped the bandages around each wrist, tying them off gently, and presenting the dress to Kayleigh. "I know it isn't what you're used to wearing, being from Rome, but it's all I can offer."

Kayleigh accepted the gift and tried it on. It was a dull green color, faded by the sun and elements. It would need mending but nothing she couldn't fix. She turned to the maid and put a hand on her shoulder, "I was of no higher station in Rome than you are here, Lavena."

"But the way you present yourself–," she started but was cut off.

"With dignity and respect? What tasks we perform make us no less a person than the highest official. You are important to many and must value yourself as such."

Lavena beamed at the woman's words and nodded her head. "If you need anything..."

"I shall call upon you," Kayleigh finished, smiling.

* * *

The knights had assembled in the great hall awaiting the verdict of Kayleigh's fate. They sat quietly in their respective seats at the Round table. None of them had seen Arthur or the accused woman since the night before. Outside, the sun was just peeking out over the horizon but the villagers were already hustling around the small village square, farmers worked their fields, and shepherds tended to their flocks. Many of Bors' bastard children played about the fort's steps, acting out their father's example by swinging at each other with wooden swords that Dagonet had carved for them. 

A loud knock on the door jolted Kayleigh awake. She bolted upright in the cot, wide eyed. Her pulse raced as panic took hold of her. The knock came again, more insistent. She quickly glanced around the room, this wasn't Rome. She relaxed slightly and pulled the blanket off of her, getting out of bed. She went to the window and pulled forth the shutters, the sun nearly blinding her. She shaded her eyes with a hand and squinted, giving her eyes time to adjust. In front of her she only saw a wall. "Oh hell," she muttered as the memories of the past few months raced through her mind like a stampede of wild horses.

The knock came again this time followed by her name. She opened the door to see a worried pair of blue eyes meet her gaze. "Oh thank the Lord, I was beginning to think you aggravated your wounds more during your sleep and had bled to death!"

"Forgive me Lavena, I hadn't slept that well in years, I was reluctant to wake," Kayleigh explained opening the door further, bidding her to come in.

Lavena swept past her carrying a wash basin full of fresh water. "I thought you might want to freshen yourself before you see Arthur." She wiped the desk off with a rag before placing the bowl on it. "The whole fort is talking about it. The supplies arrived late last night. The Romans left them just outside the wall and left. They didn't even ask for provisions."

Kayleigh smirked at the news, though she was a little disappointed that they had made it to the wall alive. Now Arthur would know what was missing from the inventory list and she would be held accountable. She dreaded the next few hours. This was the very reason she left Rome, to escape those that made the decisions which would determine her fate. She wanted to choose her own path for once.

"Do you need help?" Lavena asked wondering why Kayleigh just stood staring at the bowl she had just put down.

"No," she replied snapping out of her concentration. "Thank you," she added realizing she may have not said the first portion of her answer in a gentle voice. She went to the bowl and splashed water on her face, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The cool water cleared her head and she hoped this would prepare her for the questions to come. She had not had time to think of her answers last night. After she had filled her stomach and taken the relaxing bath, she was more than ready for sleep and the darkness claimed her as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She put her hands on the table and leaned down, letting the water drip off her nose and chin. She closed her eyes and tried to mentally train herself for her reunion with Arthur and his knights. _Do not let them see your fear. Do not let them see your weaknesses. They will take advantage of these. Do not give them information they can use against you._ These words echoed in her head. Words that were once spoken to her by her brother. He had taught her that every look, every motion gave out information on who you are. She could pick it up in others and tried as best she could to guard herself from people like Tristan who could do the same.

"Are you nervous?" Lavena once again broke the silence. Kayleigh nodded slightly turning toward the woman. Lavena smiled and put a comforting hand on Kayleigh's shoulder. "Do not fret too much. Arthur is a kind man. I'm lucky to be serving him."

Kayleigh scoffed at her comment, "Do you not tire of doing another's bidding?"

Lavena was taken back by the harshness of Kayleigh's voice. She shook her head, "He can do much better things in the world than me. He makes a greater difference than I ever could. I do the tasks I'm good at hoping that it will help him do the tasks he's good at." She didn't know if that made sense, she wasn't a very articulate speaker, but she said what she felt.

"I believe anyone can do a lot better than cleaning floors and giving baths," Kayleigh stated, grabbing the blanket from the cot and patting her face dry.

Lavena crossed her arms over her chest, taking offense by the comment. "You just told me last night that our tasks make us no less than the highest official! Did you not mean what you said?"

Kayleigh sighed, sitting down on the cot, "Of course I did. I didn't mean that your tasks aren't important. I greatly appreciate what you have done for me. But I want something more for myself."

"What do you want?"

Kayleigh thought for a moment. She had never been asked that before. "I want freedom."

"Freedom can leave you a lonely woman," Lavena stated.

Confused, Kayleigh looked at her curiously but before she could ask what the woman meant, Jols was at the door excusing himself for interrupting. "I'm here to escort you to the great hall."

Kayleigh nodded and thanked Lavena once more before following Jols out of the room. _This is it,_ she thought, dread overcoming her.

Jols came to a stop in front of large double doors, hand on one of the knobs. He looked at her questionably, "Ready?"

She nodded, driving all negativity from her mind. She reminded herself of her brother's words one last time. Jols opened the door and she strode in with confidence. The knights had stood from their seats at a massive round table. She was a little surprised to see a round table in a Roman fort but smiled at the sight. _It's almost like home_, she thought, her spirits rising slightly.

Tristan saw the light of recognition in her eyes when she gazed upon the table. She had seen one before and knew of its meaning and purpose. But where? He only knew of one place where round tables were common.

Kayleigh glanced around the room. Arthur had not yet arrived. This gave her time to put forth a good impression to the knights. She stood, just inside the door, observing them trying to decide which one would be most useful to her. A young one fidgeted nervously under her stare. He would be easily influenced but might not have the commander's ear as well as the others. The man with the wild blond hair had his arms crossed in front of him. He did not trust her, she could tell. The scout watched her blankly. He was one to avoid. Next to him was a burly man that looked bored. It would be hard to keep his interest. He had other things on his mind. The next face greeted her with a slight nod. He was a tall man with scars on his face. She smiled at him and noted him as a possibility.

Finally to her far left was the man that had given her a ride on his horse the previous day. He grinned at her and walked over to greet her. _He's the one_, she thought. She smiled at him sweetly when he reached her, "I'm at a disadvantage, you know my name, but I do not yet know yours."

"That's not her only disadvantage," Gawain muttered under his breath. Galahad jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow to quiet him.

"Lancelot," he informed her, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. "And allow me to introduce my comrades, since I am the only gentleman here with enough manners to do so." He sent Gawain a silent warning, bidding him to be decent.

He went around the table saying each man's name, "Galahad." The young one grinned at her, she smiled back.

"Gawain." He nodded disdainfully at her. She would have trouble with that one. But not so much as the next.

"Tristan." He nodded curtly and she returned the gesture.

"Bors." He gave her a half smile as she nodded her hello.

"And last, but not least, Dagonet." They smiled warmly at each other before Lancelot escorted her to a seat next to him, pulling the chair out for her.

"Thank you," she said, smiling and sitting down. There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence, none of them knowing how to start up the conversation.

The tension was building and Gawain finally blurted out, "Where did you learn to use that dagger?"

"Gawain!" Galahad scolded him quietly. Tristan smirked. This was a role reversal, he noted in amusement.

"It's okay, Galahad. I'm sure Gawain hasn't met many women that can defend themselves." She smiled at the two friends.

He wasn't going to let her get away with that answer. He leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on the table, "You didn't answer my question."

"So I didn't. My brother taught me," she indulged him.

"And where is your brother now? Why isn't he with you?" Gawain continued, ignoring the pointed looks he got from Lancelot, Galahad, and Dagonet.

She laughed, brushed the question off. "Is he always this charming?" she asked Lancelot.

He smiled at her, happy that she didn't take offense to Gawain's prying, "Not nearly as charming as I am."

Gawain rolled his eyes, "Why can't you answer a question the first time it's asked of you?"

Tristan watched Kayleigh as her smile faded, a smile that had never made it to her eyes. She did not want to answer this question. It was something about the answer that made her not wish to say it aloud, not because she didn't want the knights to know but because she herself didn't want to know. He saw sadness in her eyes before she cast them down to the table to compose herself.

"You don't need to answer," Galahad reassured her. He didn't know what had gotten into Gawain but he would be sure to find out later.

"We should wait for Arthur," Dagonet jumped in. He knew she didn't need saving but he couldn't help but intercede with Gawain attacking her. It wasn't like him.

"It's one harmless question," Gawain reasoned. "Answer it," he said in a challenging voice.

She looked up from the table. She was tired of being pushed by this man. What did he have to fear from her? The tensity in the room escalated when Gawain pressed on. "Answer," he repeated.

Kayleigh broke from the pressure. She stood up, knocking over her chair, pounding her fists into the table, "He's dead!"

Gawain immediately regretted pushing the girl into answering his questions. He had lost many brothers. Not blood brothers, but brothers in arms. He had experienced the pain of losing someone so close. They all had. He knew how much it hurt to have those memories brought back up and how excruciating it was to admit that they are gone forever. He hung his head in shame. He brought his eyes back up intent on apologizing when something else caught his eye.

"Arthur!" He stood up quickly as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The rest of the knights turned their heads to see Arthur standing in the doorway surveying the spectacle. They joined Kayleigh and Gawain in standing up.

"What's going on in here," the newcomer demanded.

"I..." Gawain started, planning to confess that he had been disrespectfully interrogating the poor girl without him present.

Kayleigh interrupted, "Gawain and I were only having a disagreement."

Gawain looked at her stunned. Why would she cover for him after how he had treated her? Her answer had even come to a surprise to Tristan who raised an eyebrow at her curiously.

Arthur looked at Kayleigh and then to Gawain. "Well, be careful that she doesn't seize Lancelot's dagger and hold it to your throat," he said dryly taking his seat. He was expecting a laugh from at least Bors but it never came. He had walked in on something serious. Lancelot placed Kayleigh's chair upright and motioned for her to sit, as the knights also did.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely, bowing her head slightly.

Arthur sighed, "Let's get started, shall we." Kayleigh nodded. She wasn't off to a good start and hoped it wasn't a sign of things to come.


	5. A Fate Determined

(AN): Sorry it took so long to update, I did some research for this chapter. It's not all accurate but I wanted some kind of factual basis for Kayleigh's past (even though some of it may be supernatural regarding her religion). I also borrowed some ideas from a book called Island of Ghosts by Gillian Bradshaw. A verygood read if you're interested in Sarmatians in Britian, which I image you are since you're reading this. Anyway, those ideas are hers, not mine, I just incorporated them into my story. Most of the characters aren't mine either, obviously.

Sweet A.K.- You'll be seeing a lot of conflict between her and the knights in later chapters. She's definately not a people pleaser and her mouth gets her in trouble.

SpectralLady- I hope you like Galahad and Gawain's small bit in here. More of Tristan in the next chapter.

dw- You'll have to wait to find out where she knows the round tables from. She doesn't like to give very much information away, just like the writer.

* * *

Kayleigh looked up from her place at the table. She glanced at Gawain whose eyes were wide with shock. The corners of her mouth rose in a slight smile. Her interjection had gained her a valuable ally, but to what cost? She looked to Arthur who had begun speaking. So far the impression she had given him was that she was a confrontational thief. It probably didn't help that she had "borrowed" his dagger to threaten one of his countryman's life. 

"...After reviewing the inventory list and supplies that were delivered, it was determined that twenty pounds of rice, two dozen ears of corn, a half pound of figs, one pound of dates, two jars of honey, and a keg of Greece's finest wine are missing," Arthur's stare burned into Kayleigh's eyes.

Bors let out a quiet whistle, "That's a lot of food and wine for such a skinny lady."

She nearly laughed at his ignorance, "I'm afraid the long voyage severely deteriorated what little meat I had on my bones to begin with. I only ate as much to keep from starvation."

"How long had you been traveling?" Lancelot questioned.

Kayleigh shrugged. She knew exactly how long it had been since she was last in Rome. She knew the hour in which the ship had deported from the docks in Ostia. For fear that Arthur might connect the time that she embarked to an incident that left the capital searching for a fugitive, she put on a face of confusion, furrowing her brows as if in great concentration. "I cannot be sure. I stayed below decks in fear of being discovered and thrown overboard."

"You must have been very frightened traveling in a ship, not knowing where you were," Galahad said softly. He remembered when he first saw the ocean. It stretched out for farther than he could see. When the Romans told him that they were to cross to an island out of sight, he cried conspiracy. He was convinced they plotted to drown him and his comrades. The largest body of water he had ever seen was the Dnieper River where his family frequently watered their herds. From the eastern bank of the river, one could clearly see the land on the other side. Standing on the beach at Gaul he could see no island, and refused to set foot in a boat to this imaginary island, Britannia. Death by drowning is the worst death possible according to his religion, for it trapped the soul in its watery depths with no chance for escape.

It was then that Galahad and Gawain's connection solidified. Gawain had explained that the ocean is much bigger than any of the rivers they have crossed. He added that the emperor was a greedy man and wouldn't let these new soldiers who were to become knights perish senselessly on the way to their command post without first fulfilling their purpose to the Roman Empire. Galahad saw reason in his words and the two were great friends from then on forth.

His mind came to present matters as Arthur spoke, "That journey would have taken about two and a half months, depending on weather conditions."

"Longer," Kayleigh commented. That would have placed her in Rome during the time of the disturbance she wanted to avoid being linked to. "We headed east first, stopped what I imagine to be a few days later, then turned around and stopped once more, about half way through the journey."

"Three months then," Lancelot offered. Arthur accepted that as Kayleigh made no protest.

"If the ship had stopped twice before arriving here, why did you not attempt to escape then?" Arthur questioned suspiciously.

Tristan noticed her composure slip but came back quickly with the answer, "I was not certain it was safe."

"And what makes you think it's safe here?" Arthur asked menacingly. She gave no answer. After a moment he continued, "You must have been running from something in Rome. What made you think Britain, a Roman province, would protect you any better than the capital city itself?"

Kayleigh decided to ignore his comment about her running. "To be honest, it was a rash action. I didn't even know what the ship's destination was."

Arthur rolled his eyes in frustration. How many times would he need to ask her the same question before he drew the answer from her? "Why did you need to leave Rome," he asked losing his patience.

She could see in his eyes that he wouldn't ask again. One way or the other he would have the answer from her. She decided to leave personal reasons to herself and opted to give them information that would draw attention away from her and on more serious matters. "Barbarians are coming down on the empire from every direction. I know what they do with women. I didn't want that fate."

At the mention of barbarians, the knights looked to Arthur for an explanation, but he had the same puzzled look on his face as the others. "Barbarians?"

"Goths," she elaborated. She almost laughed at the surprise on the commander's face. If he didn't know about the military developments outside Rome, maybe he had not heard of the recent stir she had caused inside the walls of the city. "You hadn't heard," she ventured questioning her interrogator.

Arthur shook his head slowly, taking in the news. The knights weren't sure how to respond. The Rome they hated was being threatened and they couldn't help but smile inside. But if there was to be war in Rome, they may be reassigned to a more deadly post. Here they knew the land and the enemy. They stood a better chance at surviving the year of remaining service they owed. But why had Arthur been kept in the dark when such serious developments were unfolding in the Empire? Would they be forgotten in the urgency of an invasion?

Arthur was disheartened by the news. What of his father's friend Pelagius? And the Church? Would God deliver them from the menacing enemy? He had a sudden urgency to leave and go to Rome to defend its ideals. Why hadn't he received word of the danger? His face flushed in anger as he realized this girl knew more about the happenings in Rome than he did.

Lancelot watched as Arthur, lost in thought, glared at the girl. The dark knight truly felt sorry for her. Everything she did or said rubbed his commander the wrong way and now she was the bearer of bad news. He cleared his throat loudly, jolting Arthur from the scowl he directed at Kayleigh.

Arthur stood and called to Jols, who brought in a satchel and an oilskin bundle, setting them on the table. The knights looked on curiously as Arthur unwrapped the bundle to reveal a dagger, short sword, and sharpening stone. The dagger had a dragon's head for a hilt with a ruby eye that seemed to glow when she handled it. The sword was just as great a sight to behold. It had been a reward for riding to warn the Kalybes tribe of the advancing Hun army after it had been too late for her own tribe. The sword was no longer than an arms length with inscriptions in her native tongue down the blade. On the tip of the hilt was stamped the shape of a golden thunderbolt. The sheath for both the blades also had a golden thunderbolt darting down them. "I presume these belong to you," Arthur asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

Kayleigh smiled proudly, "They do." She was slightly surprised that the Romans hadn't stolen them to sell in a marketplace. They must have seen the designs and inscriptions on the metal and were frightened off by the thought that they might be pagan.

Gawain was right, she did know how to handle a dagger, and a sword on top of that. He looked at the other knights grinning smugly, "What'd I tell ya?"

"You were right," Bors said in an amazed tone. "Well, there's a first time for everything."

Galahad snickered beside Gawain who gave him a warning look, "Just wait 'til we get outside." Galahad tried to force the grin away and put on a straight face, but his friend's idle threat only broadened it.

"_Are_ they yours," Arthur asked raising an eyebrow, skepticism dripping off his words. These high quality weapons did not seem to fit her current position.

"I didn't steal them if that's what you mean to accuse me of," her voice rose in anger. "I am tired of being incriminated by the likes of you! Give me my sentence so that I may be done with it! I will not sit here politely as you insult my honor!"

Arthur was furious that this woman would yell at him, a man of rank, in front of his men. He wanted her as far away from him as possible. He considered just casting her out but his now hurt pride required more of her. "Our wash woman is too elderly to make it to the river just outside the fort. You will take her place. Tomorrow morning Jols will show you a horse and wagon to use at your disposal and which barracks to report to. There they will give you your materials. I will have a guard accompany you," Arthur added.

"I don't need a chaperone. I will not go back on my word," she said quickly, annoyed that he didn't think much of her integrity.

"It is more for your protection than insuring that you do not abandon your duties," Arthur explained. "The native fighters from the north have been restless as of late."

A comment about Rome miserably failing at taming what they saw to be wild peoples came to her throat but she bit her lip in an attempt to keep silent. She had already spoken too much.

Arthur excused himself to oversee the storage and distribution of supplies and stood up to leave. Kayleigh called after him, her voice hopeful, "And my belongings and weapons?"

"You're free to them," he said, turning, "but your weapons may never leave your room."

She didn't like the idea but she was content in reuniting with them. She nodded and gathering her belongings, headed to her room.


	6. Tours and Tournaments

A/N: This is another long chapter. Let me know if you think it's too long and I will try to split them up in the future. I really like this chapter, and hope that you all do too. Thank you for all the reviews, keep them coming (they keep me writing). That part about the ocean was also my favorite part in the book, dw.

* * *

Kayleigh sat on the wooden chair in her room examining her weapons that she had recently recovered. The oilskin bundle had kept the moisture out, effectively guarding off rust. They were in excellent condition and she was pleased to see that the blades still drew blood when she ran a finger across them. She licked the blood away and emptied her satchel of belongings onto the cot. 

There were a variety of items from a diversity of cultures. Some she had taken from her homeland and some were given to her as gifts on her journeys, but she had thrown everything overboard that reminded her of any connections to Rome. She scooped up a handful of small but valuable tokens and placed them in a leather pouch, hiding it under her hay-stuffed mattress. There were only three articles of clothing she had managed to preserve from her tribe. One was a dress that her father had brought home to her mother after one of his raids. It had almost fit her four months ago but she observed that she was now too malnourished to fill it out properly. She put the garment and her riding clothes, which consisted of black leather breeches and a sleeveless brown tunic into the trunk at the foot of the cot. Scales of horse hooves were sewn in lines covering the front and back of her tunic, providing a considerable amount of protection against any enemy that wished to do her harm.

Now that she was settled, she decided to do some exploring around the fort. _Find their weaknesses. Find their strengths. Use these against them._ Her brother's voice came to her again. She remembered the day he had said that.

_They were sitting on a hill watching soldiers train for combat. "There," he said, pointing to a large man barring an axe, "his swing is too powerful. See how much energy is used to slow the momentum? He will tire easily if you dodge his attack."_

_She nodded, taking all the information in. He had started this training the day after she arrived in Rome. Though she had learned many skills through her quest to find him, he wanted her to have a thorough knowledge of weapons and how to handle them. If they were ever separated again, he would know that she would be able to defend herself but he prayed to all the gods he knew that she would never need to. He would keep her from harm as long as he was around._

"_And there," he pointed to a man wielding a sword above his head, "What is his weakness?"_

_The man was bringing his sword down on his opponent, trying to split his head openlike a watermelon. She laughed at his inability. "His weapon is too far away from his body, leaving him exposed," she answered._

_Her brother smiled at her, pride shining in his eyes. She was a quick learner and very observant. "Very good," he praised her. "Now listen carefully, Kayleigh." She drew her eyes from the field below and looked at him, concentrating on his words. "A man's strength can also be his weakness."_

_Her forehead creased with confusion and she began to argue that his comment was a contradiction when he continued, cutting her off. "When your opponent has more muscle than you, use your swift feet against him. When he has confidence, make him believe he has bested you before you attack. When his technique is without flaw, use your words to anger him. Never bring emotions into battle," he warned. "They will take hold of you and bury you in the ground." _

She shook her head, ridding herself of the memories. Their reunion had been sweet and so had the months after but thoughts of her brother often turned into dark plans on how she should have disposed of his murderers. Instead, she had made rash decisions. She planted traps and sabotaged them, instead of fighting them face-to-face, and ran like a coward. She was ashamed of her actions and hoped that one day she would be able to restore the honor of her brother's memory and her own.

She walked to the door, intent on finding out more of her whereabouts and the people surrounding her. She swung the door open and stepped out only to run head-on into Galahad.

"Are you alright," he asked, reaching out to steady her. She jumped back from his touch, knocking over the chair, nearly falling over again, before grabbing hold of the desk to stabilize herself. He stood in the doorway, not daring to enter her room for fear he would startle her again. Tristan was right, she was afraid. She recoiled from touch like an injured animal. The scene from yesterday afternoon flashed in is head. She hadn't held onto Lancelot while riding back to the fort and ignored his helping hand when they arrived.

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied curtly once she regained her composure. "I'm sorry." She saw the hurt in his eyes and cursed her reflexes.

"No worries," he said, giving her a reassuring smile. "I came to see if you might be interested in a tour of the fort."

She smiled, "I was just about to take a walk. I would be honored if you served as my tour guide."

They walked down the dusty streets as he pointed out the main buildings–headquarters, stables, bath house, barracks, kitchen, marketplace, storehouse. The fort was much larger than it appeared from the outside and by the time they turned back, the sun was low in the sky.

"What do you think of it," Galahad asked curiously.

She shrugged. "I suppose it will do for however long your commander requires me to stay. To me, it is confining. I don't like being walled up."

Galahad smiled, "That is how the knights feel. We come from Sarmatia, a land that is open and free. I wish to return when I receive my discharge."

She felt sorry for the young man. She did not have the heart to tell him that his country is not what it was fifteen years ago. Instead she inquired as to the plans of the other knights upon receiving their discharge.

"I sometimes feel that I am the only one that longs for home," he said with a sigh. "Gawain doesn't think on it enough to remember, Bors has ten children and a girlfriend here, and I can't see Dagonet leaving without him."

They came up on the tavern and Galahad offered to buy her a drink and dinner. Her stomach protested loudly as she declined gracefully. She did not want any more debts piled on to the ones she already owed.

Galahad, sensing the reason for her answer, gave her his most charming smile, "Your presence here would be payment enough. I do not yet wish to part with you."

"Okay, okay," she gave in. "But your generosity will not be forgotten."

They placed their orders and found a table before continuing their conversation. "You didn't say what plans Tristan and Lancelot have made," she reminded him.

He shrugged, "They do not speak of home."

Gawain, Bors, and Lancelot arrived at the tavern as the plates of food were set in front of Kayleigh and Galahad. Gawain walked over shaking his head. "You couldn't wait could you? I told him to wait until you were settled to bother you," he explained to Kayleigh.

"He's no bother. His timing needs work, but he was very helpful." She smiled at Galahad warmly. She enjoyed his company as much as he did hers.

Galahad gave Gawain a smug smile, the same that Gawain had given to the knights previously. Gawain rolled his eyes, "We have a matter to settle yet, don't we?"

"I believe we do, but this time you'll be the one buying the drinks," Galahad stood confronting his friend.

"After all those losses, you can't afford to buy the drinks again," Gawain retorted playfully.

"Did somebody say drinks," a woman asked behind Lancelot and Bors who were approaching with food for themselves and Gawain.

"I hope you don't mind us intruding on your cozy little table here," Lancelot said insincerely.

"Actually–," Galahad started.

"Great," Lancelot exclaimed sitting himself down next to Galahad.

Bors sat next to Kayleigh and took the cups of wine from the woman that he introduced as Vanora. He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her thoroughly.

"The girlfriend, I'm guessing," Kayleigh said, raising an eyebrow at the public display of affection.

Bors let Vanora up to go about her duties. "A good guess, but you wouldn't be so lucky guessing the outcome of such passion," he challenged her.

"Ten children," she stated.

"And he himself is still guessing at which ones are his and which are mine," Lancelot smirked.

Galahad and Gawain laughed but Kayleigh didn't find it amusing at all. The idea of the knight sleeping with his comrade's girlfriend sickened her. "Don't you worry," Bors told her, "they're all Bors'. But you had better be careful around this one. He's got an eye for women. You do not need to be a girlfriend to be pulled onto a lap here."

Lancelot gave her an innocent look, "I assure you, milady, some women just seem to fall into my lap as they walk by."

"I will remember not to walk by then," she retorted. The knights laughed at her quick remark.

"You better hope your knife is as quick to hit the target as her wits," Gawain said, starting up the friendly quips again.

"I'm ready," Galahad stood up, as did his opponent.

"This is nearly a nightly ritual between these two," Bors informed Kayleigh. She watched as Galahad took a stool and placed it lying down on the bar. "Whoever gets it closest to the middle wins. The loser buys him a drink."

They both counted out ten paces from the bar and turned around. "Ladies first," Gawain motioned for Galahad to throw. Galahad growled and took aim. His knife landed just to the right of the middle.

"Ah ha!" he exclaimed, confident that he would be closest. He turned and gave Kayleigh a triumphant smile. She couldn't help but chuckle at his youthful enthusiasm. "Elders last," Galahad waited for Gawain to throw. He did and it landed just left of the middle.

"Looks like I won, you're buying drinks for me again." Gawain added, "If you can afford it."

"I am not! Mine's closest," Galahad contended.

"Is not! As if you weren't blind enough to miss the middle, you can't tell when you've lost."

Kayleigh turned to Lancelot, "May I?" She didn't wait for an answer and picked up his knife from his empty plate. She walked over to where Galahad and Gawain had been standing and threw the knife. It passed between the two knights, who had started toward the stool for a better look, and embedded itself in the dead center of the stool. They whirled around to see who had thrown it, half expecting to see Tristan.

Their eyes grew wide as Kayleigh smiled and said, "Looks like you both owe me a drink." Bors laughed at the subdued friends. Lancelot could only stare dumbly at her, for once at a loss for words.

"Nice throw," she heard an accented voice from her right say. She turned to see Tristan in the shadows watching her intently.

"Thank you," she said looking away. His gaze unnerved her and she shifted uncomfortably under it. The other knights shook themselves out of the amazed stares and congratulated her as well. She accepted the compliments humbly, but told them she would collect her prize later. She did not have the energy to confront their questions tonight. She noted the hour of the night and excused herself to her room, thanking Galahad once more for making her feel welcome.


	7. First Day

A/N: Thank you all for the reviews, they are greatly appreciated! I'm trying to get the story moving and a bit of excitment because it was really starting to bore even me. So in the next few chapters we'll be getting into the thick of it. Enjoy!

* * *

That night Kayleigh could not sleep. She felt like a prisoner inclosed in those stone walls. She put on her light hooded cloak she had set aside and fastened it around her shoulders with a dragon pin she retrieved from the hidden pouch. Not being able to cope with the confinement any longer, she evacuated the building. 

Outside the air was cool and a light breeze blew through the empty streets. Her gaze fell upon the fort's wall and she inwardly groaned. How she hated that wall. She made her way over to the stairs and began to climb them. _Might as well see what awaits me on the other side_, she thought, curiosity taking hold of her. She reached the top and looked out into the darkness. In the faint moonlight she saw a dark silhouetted line across the countryside. An exasperated sigh left her lips, "Another damn wall."

"Hadrian's Wall," a voice specified. She jumped and turned to see Tristan leaning against the wall, studying her. The moonlight blanketed her in a soft glow that made her appear young and her skin soft. But when she turned to him, he could see that, even though she was only in her mid-twenties, she had an old soul. She had seen many things. When he gazed into her eyes, it was like looking into a pool of water. He recognized the weariness in her experienced eyes. It was the same he had. The same all of the knights had.

"What are you doing here this late at night," she asked, narrowing those eyes.

"Keeping watch," he simply stated.

Her cheeks flushed realizing the foolishness of her question. He was a knight, that is his duty. She turned to peer over the wall again in attempt to hide her embarrassment. "Beyond that," she nodded her head towards the wall, the end of the Roman empire, "Freedom."

"Death," he corrected her.

She turned to him leaning her back against the wall. "You've been to the other side?"

"Once," he nearly whispered.

Kayleigh tilted her head to the side, looking at him. "And yet here you are, alive."

"My body, yes," he confirmed. Memories of that day flooded back to his mind. Woads had tried to sack the fort many years ago. His unit had been sent north to cut off their attack and buy time for the other legions to prepare for battle. Many of his fellow knights fell that day, some who he had known from his own tribe. He had suffered a devastating loss, not only Rome. The Woads had pushed them back south of the wall but never made it as far as the fort. Reinforcements had joined the battle and he cut down the enemy with vengeful accuracy.

"And your spirit," she asked him, encouraging him to continue.

He looked at her darkly, then looked to Hadrian's Wall, "Lies with my comrades' bones on the other side." He glanced at her one last time before turning and walking away.

* * *

Kayleigh rose early the next day, giving up on a fitful night's sleep. She was anxious to start paying off the debt she owed. She mended the dress the maid had given her and hemmed it at the sides to fit her body more comfortably. The sun was not yet up but the moist air outside told her that a thick fog was over the land. Galahad had pointed out the stables yesterday on their tour so she had no trouble finding them in the dim morning light. 

It smelt of horses, hay, and leather and she breathed in deep, smiling to herself. She loved the smell and almost felt home. She entered to find the stable boy cleaning out the stalls. "May I help," she inquired. She had nothing else to do until Jols met her later that morning.

He gave her a strange look but welcomed the assistance. He was a scrawny pre-teen with wiry red hair and introduced himself as Haggan. They went through each stall removing the soiled hay and replacing it with a fresh batch. Kayleigh looked over each horse as she moved into their individual stalls. They were all fine beasts in excellent condition. Some had scars that she imagined were from battles but one would expect that of war horses. She came to a stall in the back corner and was about to enter when Haggan stopped her.

"This one has a wild temper," he warned. "I would not want you to get hurt." He brushed her aside and entered the stall cautiously. She ignored his words and followed him. The horse was gray with a black mane and tail. It backed into the corner and its eyes darted around nervously as Kayleigh and Haggan stood there.

"Whose is it," she questioned.

He shrugged, "No one's in particular. It was used as a secondary when a knight's horse was injured. It was not nearly as well trained but it got the rider where he needed to go."

"Do they know its condition," she asked.

"No," he shook his head. "It had rebelled against one of the calvary's men. Threw him off and broke his leg. I thought the horse unfit to ride and we tried using it as a workhorse. It was too wild for even that. I confined it to this stall away from the other horses so that it would not upset them. It grows fat with inactivity."

Kayleigh approached the horse slowly but the horse reared and pawed in the air aggressively. She stood still until it settled and reached a hand out for the horse to sniff. The horse's skin was taunt over its ribs but it's stomach sagged heavily. Kayleigh rubbed its face and looked into its eyes.

"You fool!" she exclaimed, turning angrily on the stableboy, startling the horse. She pushed Haggan out of the way and ran from the stall. She went to some barrels containing feed and filled a pail. She ran back to the stall, "You're starving her!"

"I am not," he argued. "This horse is lazy and useless!"

"What's going on in here," Jols had entered the stables during the argument and was now headed to the back to see what the fuss was.

"Your stableboy," Kayleigh explained, sneering at Haggan, "is killing this animal. It is only lazy and useless because you've made it so!"

Haggan's face grew red, his fists balling at his sides, "And what do you know?"

"She's with foal," she returned to the horse lifting the pail, bidding it to eat.

"What?" Jols turned his eyes to the horse's midsection, examining her.

Haggan didn't believe her. She had only just seen the horse. "How do you know that," he challenged her.

Kayleigh brought her hand up to scratch behind the mare's ear. Her own horse had always had a spot there that was in constant need of attention. "She told me as much, with her eyes."

"You can talk to dumb beasts," he asked, crossing his arms in front of him.

She turned to him, glaring, "And isn't that what I'm doing right now?"

Haggan was insulted but couldn't come up with the words to insult her back. He could only step back and lean against the stall, watching in smoldering silence.

"How long has she been like this," Jols asked, trying to get an idea of when she would give birth.

"The beginning of summer, last year."

Kayleigh frowned, "It may be too late for both of them."

"I'll inform Arthur," Jols announced.

At this, Haggan became frantic. "Please don't! If he thinks I cannot care for the horses, I'll be out of a job!"

"You can do the wash," Kayleigh joked. "Were you not trained for your job?"

He shook his head. The mare had finished eating and nudged Kayleigh with her head. She retrieved some water for the horse and turned to Jols, "I will meet with Arthur tonight and explain the situation. Maybe we can work something out."

Both men seemed to agree with her suggestion. Jols prepared a horse drawn cart, and he and Kayleigh made their way to the barracks. A Roman officer met them and showed Kayleigh to a room that was used for storage. Inside were piles of dirty clothing and Kayleigh wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Is this an army of skunks," she asked Jols once they had loaded the cart. Jols chuckled and shook his head.

The officer rejoined them after locking the room back up and Kayleigh wondered why anyone would want to set foot in there. She never would have said these things to the officer, though. He was a stern looking man with dull eyes. "Arthur requested you be accompanied to the river. I will have to scrounge up a man, which will be hard considering part of the legion are on watch, part are sleeping from being on watch all night, and others are tending to their own duties. As if we don't already have enough to do, we have to babysit a thief so she doesn't steal dirty garments," he said, not attempting to hide his annoyance at these new orders.

"I would go with you," Jols offered, "but I have a busy day ahead of me as it is."

"I'll go," a voice behind them said. She turned and smiled at the newcomer. Perhaps the day wouldn't be so terrible after all.

* * *

Dagonet reined his horse in to walk beside Kayleigh who was driving the cart full of clothes. Though he was sure she could defend herself against a man, he knew she would have no chance against a group of Woads. He told her as much, not wanting her to think that he didn't have confidence in her skills. 

"What are Woads," she asked. She was glad it was he who offered to accompany her and not an egotistical Roman soldier. Dagonet was strong and confident but had a softness in his eyes. He reminded her of her brother.

"They are the native people of this land," he explained. "They never gave in to Roman rule."

"And why should they? It is their home. Who wouldn't resist foreigners that take land that does not belong to them?" She stopped herself then before spouting off how Rome's greedy hand has set peoples against each other, not uniting them the way the empire claims it has. She did not yet know Dagonet's feelings towards the power.

He did not show any surprise at her words. "You aren't Roman, are you," it was more a statement than a question.

"No," she said viciously.

"From where are you, then," he asked curiously.

Kayleigh thought for a moment. She did not yet want to reveal where she had been born. The reputation of her people was not a good one and wouldn't help her situation. "I'm from many places. I do not have one home. Many different peoples of different lands have accepted me as their own."

"Why are you not there, with them?"

"I traveled for many years, looking for my brother. When I found him, I found where I belonged. Now, I belong no where," she said sadly.

He wanted to console her, tell her that she would be alright, that she belonged here. But he was not sure of his own fate, how could he predict hers?

They rode on in silence, reaching the river before mid-day. He helped her unload the cart and unharnessed the horse from it. He led the two horses upstream for a drink and to cool off in the shade of the trees, leaving Kayleigh to her work.

She knelt at the edge of the river, grumbling about how dirty men were, when she heard voices in the woods downstream from her. She looked upstream to where Dagonet had disappeared with the horses an hour ago and called out to him but she received no answer. She dropped the garment she was washing and turned towards the woods, listening intently. Between the trees, four large men were stomping towards her. They were heavily armed and sweating profusely under animal skins. She could not understand what they were saying, for they spoke in a foreign tongue. They did not look like Romans to her and she did not figure them to be natives. Natives would have dressed lightly for the weather.

She reached into her boot for her dagger but only felt leather. Her heart raced as she remembered its resting place in her room. She cursed Arthur under her breath and hid on the other side of the cart. They approached from the other side, quieting as they saw the cart and clothes. Seeing nobody around, one kicked the pile, sending clothes into the mud and some downstream, caught in the current. Kayleigh watched angrily as they trampled over the clothes, drawing closer to her position. If she had her weapons, they would be dead before the laughs escaped their throats.

One of the men hushed the others and pointed into the woods. Kayleigh turned to see Dagonet walking the horses back to where he had left her. She tried to warn him without giving up her position but he did not see her motioning to him. The man closest to her drew his crossbow up and aimed for Dagonet's chest.

"Watch out," she screamed, coming from her hiding place and tackling the man. The arrow was let loose but missed it's mark, grazing Dagonet's arm. He winced as he drew his sword but ran forward to attack without hesitation. The other three men, startled by Kayleigh's warning, took a moment to draw their weapons. Kayleigh had knocked the crossbow from the man's hand but he had pinned her in the mud. He drew his dagger, intending to slit her throat but she brought her knee up to his groin and he gave out a yelp of pain, falling on top of her. "That's for getting my clothes muddy," she said through clenched teeth.

Dagonet was fighting off two men with his sword. When he pushed one away, the other attacked. He blocked a blow and slashed his sword across the foreigner's mid section, killing him. His comrade attacked, swinging his sword high, which Dagonet ducked and swiftly buried his sword into the invader's chest.

Kayleigh twisted the hand of the man that lay atop her, forcing him to let go of his dagger. She reached her arm around him, dagger in hand, and plunged it into his back, then rolled out from beneath his dead body. The fourth man had charged Kayleigh as soon as she had stood. She dropped to the ground in the last instant and the man swept past her. As he ran back towards her, she lifted the dagger and threw it at his chest. The momentum of the blade knocked him back, his dead body falling in the water, giving it a pink hue.

She turned to Dagonet, who had also just finished off his last attacker as well. "Are you okay," she asked, seeing the blood run down his arm.

He laughed and nodded his head, bringing a finger to the wound to inspect it. "I knew you could defend yourself," he said, kneeling down to the river to wash away the blood, "but I didn't know you would be defending me as well. I thank you."


	8. A Traitor Among Us

A/N: I was really disappointed in the reviews for last chapter. Or lack of them as it were. I'd be lying if I said it didn't depress me. So, this chapter is dedicated to SpecktralLady, Zelinia, and Evenstar-mor2004 (many, many plot bunnies and they multiply so quickly!). Thank you for always reviewing!

* * *

Galahad and Gawain were sitting at the Round Table being briefed by Bors. Arthur was present as he normally was at these meetings during the shift change. He wanted to know everything that went on in his stronghold, down to the smallest details. Bors was just informing them on the only bit of disturbance during his shift, a farmer and merchant's disagreement, when Dagonet burst through the doors, Kayleigh in tow. 

"Did those uniforms give you a hard time," Bors asked Kayleigh, laughing at her dingy appearance. The mud had dried and cracked with every movement she made, causing dirt to flake off in a cloud behind her. Her hair was heavy and unmoving, weighed down by the soil caked on it.

The room became serious when neither of the newcomers smiled. The laughter faded quickly as Dagonet walked toward Arthur, his bandaged arm being revealed to the room. Kayleigh had helped him wrap it before the journey back, the chores for the day abandoned.

"What happened," Arthur frowned.

Dagonet handed him a scroll. Only one word needed to be said, "Saxons."

Arthur's eyes widened, looking from the scroll to Dagonet, "Saxons?"

"Another scouting party," Gawain questioned. They had discovered two such squads in the past month. Their increased activity worried him.

Dagonet shook his head, "Dispatch."

"What?" Arthur snatched the scroll and opened it, reading its contents to himself. Pelagius taught Arthur many different languages and the Saxon language was one of them. He believed that to help mankind, he must first understand them. Pelagius took up as many languages he could, in order to help as many as he could, and taught them to Arthur as well, seeing great potential in the boy.

"It did not come from across the eastern sea," Dagonet warned, sitting down tiredly. "They approached from the west."

"They have no territory in the west," Galahad stated, his eyebrows coming together in confusion.

Kayleigh watched Arthur paced the room. He had finished reading and whatever was written greatly disturbed him, though he made no move to announce its contents and the knights didn't question him. She could tell they were struggling to keep their tongues in the mouths. There was only one man that questions Arthur and he was not present to do so.

Arthur stated that he needed time to come up with a course of action and requested they all meet back at the Round Table after supper. All accept Kayleigh.

* * *

Kayleigh hadn't given thought to her appearance before she had noticed the stares and disdained looks she was receiving from the townspeople as she walked to her room. She had half a mind to growl at them, to act like the beast they thought she was, just to see their reaction. Just imagining it made her snicker to herself. She arrived in her room and retrieved her satchel and a trinket from under her mattress that she thought would be sufficient to trade for a new dress. 

The town center smelled of flowers, leather, and the tang that only freshly smithed weapons could provide. She wandered around the vendors looking at items that peaked her interest. The merchants watched her carefully making sure she didn't touch their items without buying them. It seemed her title as thief had gotten around. She finally selected a dress and bartered some change off the owner as her trinket was quite valuable. She also bought a loaf of freshly baked bread, two apples, and a waterskin which she filled at the fountain. These items she placed in her satchel along with the money she had left over.

The horse from that morning came to mind as she passed the stable and she decided to check in on it. Haggan needed instruction on how to care for it. The stables were empty of any human life and the horses neighed their greeting as she strode in. Kayleigh approached the mare's stall slowly, in a direction where the horse could see her. She talked to it in a hushed voice to keep her calm. The horse did not move away when she entered its stall and Kayleigh took this as a good sign. She pulled the apple out from her satchel and held it out to the horse urging it to eat. The beast stepped forward gingerly and took a bite from the apple, tasting its sweet flavor, then took the whole fruit in its mouth, nearly swallowing it whole. Kayleigh stood talking to the horse for a moment more before leaving the stall to get some grooming tools.

"I've never seen her so calm," Lancelot said from the door of the stables. Kayleigh made no recognition of his presence, only continued what she was doing. "Allow me to help," he offered, walking to the stall.

The horse glanced nervously at the approaching man. She stopped him, "No!" She cleared her throat and continued in a softer voice, "I can manage myself. She does not trust you."

"You seduced her with your fruit," he said, pointing out that she had an unfair advantage.

"You would know more of seducing than I would," she said re-entering the stall. She whispered soothingly to the horse as she reached to brush her with the course bristles. The horse shied away but Kayleigh reached up and scratched the spot behind her ear that she loved so much and she stood still. Kayleigh continued the grooming.

"I only seduce women who choose to be seduced," he replied with a smile. He didn't want her to be uncomfortable around him. Her skills were very appealing to him, although her appearance wasn't at the moment. "I heard about your encounter with the Saxons. Dagonet said you were very brave."

She snorted. "I was not brave," she insisted.

"You attacked armed men when you did not have a weapon yourself, did you not?"

"No thanks to Arthur. I thought if it be my last action in this world, better make it a good one," Kayleigh reasoned. "Besides, Dagonet is a good man."

"Arthur is as well," Lancelot offered. At that Kayleigh stopped brushing the horse and turned around. He spoke before she had time to object, "He does not like secrets and you are a secret to him. He thrives on routine and order, but you continue to surprise us. You cannot fault him for his responsibility to Rome. He is only doing his duty."

Kayleigh left the stall, replacing the brush where she found it, and picked up her bag. "I can blame him for not giving me the opportunity to win his trust." With that she strode out to find a place to eat her dinner, leaving Lancelot with the horses. She found a post to lean against as she sat and ate her dinner. The post was part of an encircled fence that she imagined the knights and horses trained in. As the sun set, she took a few moments to contemplate how long it would be before she would be able to practice with her own weapons. The sky grew dark and she headed to the bath house, confident that it would now be abandoned and she would have the privacy she desired.

* * *

Tristan was waiting at Kayleigh's door when she returned to her room. The new sage green, sleeveless dress she wore brought out the color of her eyes, he noted. It was simple, with no embroidery or ornaments, but it complimented her form well. He leaned on his side against the wall next to the door frame, waiting for a greeting. 

She stopped in front of her room facing him, waiting expectantly. When neither of them spoke, she opened the door, entering and closed it behind her, leaving Tristan blinking in the hallway. It was a good thing she did not have as much patience as he or they would have stood there all night staring at each other until someone came looking for them.

Kayleigh smirked when she heard a faint knock and swung the door open to Tristan. "Arthur requests your presence," he said flatly.

She nodded and walked quietly beside him to the Great Hall. Inside, the knights sat discussing the recent events.

"... if the Saxons knew that, there must be someone in this fort feeding them information," Lancelot exclaimed.

"Not only this fort, but Vindolanda as well. It lies on the Stanegate, less than a day's ride west of us. That knowledge is not revealed to the common villager. Strange that the Saxons happen to stumble upon you just one day after you arrived," Arthur looked pointedly at Kayleigh, who had taken a seat next to Lancelot, Tristan sitting across from her. (See Footnote)

"I'm no Saxon if that's what you are implying," she said as calmly as she could. She would not let him get to her again.

"How do we know they weren't delivering the message to you?" The knights were taken back by his brazen questioning. He was lacking the diplomacy he was known for.

"She tried to warn me of their presence, and helped fight them off without weapons. Why would she take such a risk if she were their ally," Dagonet pointed out.

"I told you of my background," she added.

"No, you told us you came from Rome on stolen passage aboard a ship. We know nothing else of you," Arthur told her.

"Perhaps that is because you have not shown interest in knowing, aside from your interrogations where you do nothing but accuse me with no backing evidence." She did not want to tell him anything for that fact alone.

Lancelot intervened before Arthur could speak, knowing that he would not like the accusation being thrown back at him. "She is worthy of the chance to redeem herself, Arthur."

Arthur looked around the table, realizing all of the knights agreed. "You have only known her one day," he said to no one knight in particular, astonished at their willingness to accept her.

"That is true," Lancelot acquiesced, "but in that one day I've discovered that, besides being independent and quite stubborn, she has a great knowledge of horses and a tender side to her." He smiled at Kayleigh next to him. Lancelot only needs to watch one with a horse a few minutes before judging whether the person in question is worthy of his time. Kayleigh passed the test, revealing more with her interactions with the horse than she would with words.

"She's got quick wit," Bors added, laughing, thinking upon last night when she had shut down Lancelot's attempts to charm her. Knowing what Bors was thinking, Lancelot shook his head slightly at the man and lowered it, trying to hide a grin.

"And world wise. She has traveled and seen many things. That could be helpful to us," Dagonet put in, trying to appeal to Arthur's practical side. He decided that it would be better not to indulge the information that Kayleigh was not Roman. It was a secret not his to reveal.

Gawain smiled appreciatively at her, "Plus, she's self-sacrificing, willing to take the blame for a friend."

"And she has great aim," Galahad chimed in, receiving laughs from Gawain, Bors, Lancelot, and Dagonet. Arthur sat dumbfounded. His knights seemed to have spent much time with the woman. He wondered how much more they knew of her than he did.

Kayleigh was happy, yet stunned that the knights had spoken for her against their commander. They had decided that she was a decent person before knowing her history. A slight twinkle of hope shone in her eyes as she nodded her thanks to each of them. Maybe she could trust them after all.

Arthur took the knights' comments into account. They are the most suspicious men he knew, yet they had given her a chance. Why was he finding it hard to do so as well? He knew the answer in the back of his mind. She had challenged his authority after he saved her. No one had ever done that before and he found her boldness intimidating. A power struggle had formed between the two. He struggled to stay in charge but now she even had the knights on her side. Indeed, they were loyal to him and always would be, under their forefathers' oaths, but he did not want them questioning his judgement. That would prove deadly on the battlefield.

He scanned the table, weighing the comments each knight made until his eyes rested on Tristan. He had not said anything on the woman. "Tristan, do you have anything to add?"

Kayleigh's gaze turned to Tristan. The man was unpredictable and her stare bore into him warning him not to speak against her. She was unsure of how much she revealed to him. It was obvious to her that he had been watching her throughout the day. She had felt eyes watching her and could feel a presence nearby. Without seeing him physically, she knew it was him.

Tristan looked at her, her eyes weighing him down, and wondered if that was what if felt like on the receiving end of his stares. He brushed it off and turned to Arthur. "She is no Saxon," he blankly remarked. He had his own suspicions of who she was but kept them to himself.

Lancelot decided Arthur had taken too long to consider their words and spoke again, "Give her a chance. Yes, she keeps many secrets, but all of us have moments in our past that we would like to forget. She is quiet but no more tightlipped than Tristan." At the sound of his name, Tristan's head shot up. He glared at Lancelot, not liking being compared to the girl. Kayleigh did the same.

Arthur sighed resignedly. Even the untrusting knights were willing to welcome Kayleigh. He didn't take their concerns lightly. Their opinions mattered to him and he did his best to alter his plans as much as he could to accommodate them. It's the least he could do. It gave them some sense of humanity, while being used as a pawn by the Roman Empire.

"You may go," he said to Kayleigh, dismissing her. "I want this development kept quiet. We don't need suspicion and hysteria sweeping the country." She nodded in agreement, rising to leave.

"Wait! She must be permitted to carry her weapons," Lancelot jumped up out of his seat.

"That is out of the question," Arthur said, remaining steadfast.

Lancelot's voice rose in anger, "She could have been killed today. How could you send her out there again, defenseless?"

"She was not defenseless, she had Dagonet with her," was the calm response.

"Then one of us must take the journey each day with her to the water's shore," he told the knights.

"I cannot afford to have my knights strolling down to the river every day. I have greater tasks for you to do."

Kayleigh rolled her eyes, "I can take care of myself if you haven't noticed." The two men stood firm on their positions so she thought this as good a time as any to bring up Haggan. She explained the situation with the pregnant mare and his lack of knowledge but also added that she would be willing to teach him how to care for it.

"It seems your skills would be of better use else where," Arthur said, letting her drop the duty of washwoman. She smiled, though she knew it would be a long process teaching Haggan about the spirit of horses. He did not seem like one in tune with nature. Thanking Arthur, she left the room quickly before he had a chance to change his mind.

* * *

Vindolanda was a fort just South of Hadrian's Wall on a Roman stone road they called Stanegate. It was the major road running east to west connecting the major forts along the wall. See my profile to go to the Roman-Britain website where I got most of the info. 


	9. Chaos in the Streets

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! They made me so happy, I'm updating a whole three days before I normally would, as a reward to all you wonderful readers. I'm glad you all liked the bit of history I put in it. I'm planning on adding more. It just makes the story more believable. Besides, it's very interesting to research. What you said does make sense abeldina. I am trying as best as I can to keep all the knights in character. Yell at me if I stray, alright? How nice of you to review xtian, Happy Birthday! Alright, on to the good stuff.

* * *

Nearly a month had passed without another incident with Saxons. Even the Woads were unusually quiet. This put the whole fort on edge. Arthur had increased security around Hadrian's Wall. Scouts were sent out more frequently and in larger groups, all returning to report no new activity. A letter had been sent to Vindolanda warning them of the security leak and suggesting they keep confidential information within the ranks of trusted officials only. 

With the increased vigilance the situation warranted, neither Arthur nor the knights had much extra time on their hands. Jols was often sent to check on Kayleigh's progress with the horse. It took days for her to calm the horse down enough to harness it. The horse, whose name she finally found to be Fury, did not like being tied up. She sympathized with the mare. Horses are social creatures, most comfortable in herds, moving freely across the land. That was the nature of Kayleigh's people until the Romans came along trying to domesticate them.

With Haggan's help, Kayleigh determined the foal would be born in as few as two months, just before summer. This didn't give her much time to get the mare into a healthy condition before foaling. She directed Haggan to feed the horse nearly twice what he had been previously. The stableboy did not have the eye to sense what the horse needed in the later months of pregnancy. It was a gift one was born with, something Kayleigh could not teach.

She took it upon herself to harness the horse and lead it around the inside of the stables, once in the morning and again at night. Fury's interaction with the other horses was almost as important as the exercise the task provided. It lowered the mare's stress and made its temperament more manageable. Kayleigh was pleased with the progress made and decided that this week she would ease her into the saddle.

"Hold this for a moment," Kayleigh said, handing Haggan the leading rope which was attached to the harnessed horse. After he had a tight grasp on it, she left the stall and came back with a heavy blanket. She patted the mare's back before gently placing the blanket atop it. Feeling the weight on its back, the horse whirled its head around, knocking Haggan to the ground. Laughter erupted from Kayleigh's gut as Haggan cursed, throwing a handful of dirt at the horse, who only shook her mane in response.

"Damn horse," he said, dusting himself off. "How am I supposed to deal with her? She hates me."

"With good reason," Kayleigh replied. "You did nearly kill her."

Haggan huffed. Though he admired her skills, he did not like her reminding him of his incompetence every two hours. "I'm sorry I wasn't taught the ways of the beasts as you were, horse maiden," he retorted sarcastically.

"I wasn't taught," she corrected. "I watched quietly and learned, which is what you should be doing."

It would be easier for him to stay quiet he decided, rolling his eyes. Then he wouldn't have to listen to her biting comments in response to his complaining.

"Do you think you can handle the simple task of holding this rope or should I tie her to a post," she asked, holding the rope out to him, which he took, holding it closer to the harness this time. She hefted the heavy saddle atop the horse's back and secured it snugly. Taking the rope from Haggan, she led it around the clearing in the middle of the stables. Kayleigh continued the routine for three days. Each day the horse became less fidgety under the saddle's weight. The fourth day was dedicated to subduing Fury into a bridle and letting her get used to the feel of the bit in her mouth.

On the fifth day, Kayleigh led her out of the stables into the street, wet with the cool dew that the afternoon fog brought. She wanted to reward the horse for its good behavior by letting it wander freely in the pastures. The moment they cleared the stable doors, the horse reared, pulling the rope from Kayleigh's hands and took off in a run down the street. It was not used to the activity of the villagers and every movement frightened the horse. Kayleigh ran after her, cursing loudly as Fury headed into the marketplace. Merchants and customers ran in terror away from the bucking mare.

When Kayleigh caught up with the horse, the streets were littered with broken jars, trampled food and cloth, splintered wood, and overturned tables and carts. She ran over to the horse and reached for the leading rope but Fury spun, hitting Kayleigh with her rear flank, knocking her to the ground. Kayleigh jumped to her feet running after the horse who had bolted out of the marketplace and was now headed straight for Lancelot. He stared the horse down and Fury skid to a stop on the cobblestones in front of him. He took his cloak off and threw it over the horse's face, grabbing the leading rope. The mare struggled momentarily but Lancelot held firm.

"Lancelot," Kayleigh started, pausing to catch her breath. "Thank you." He nodded in response, patting the now sweaty horse. "I may have seduced her with fruit, but you seduced her by removing garments," she smiled at him.

"That's how I seduce all my ladies," he gave her a flirtatious grin. "What shall I take off for you?"

Kayleigh laughed, "How about that smug smile?"

"I cannot as long as you're around," he shrugged helplessly. "Where were you headed with this one?"

"To the pastures. She needs some variety in her diet, to keep the foal healthy," she explained.

He nodded his understanding, turning and leading the horse away from the town center. "Arthur's going to kill you," he said, glancing back at the catastrophe left in the mare's wake. Merchants were complaining to a group of Roman soldiers that came to investigate the disturbance.

Kayleigh sighed, "Looks like you'll have to come to my rescue again before the day is over, brave knight." Lancelot was the man to be allies with and if a little flirting would secure her place there, she was more than willing to give it. After today, she would definitely need him standing between her and Arthur.

Lancelot raised an eyebrow at her comment. She sounded like a completely different person than she had three weeks ago. Other than the occasional shared drink at the tavern when they both happened to be there, he hadn't seen her since the day Arthur had called her into their assembly. Her mood was considerably lighter. The change in occupations must have been the trick.

They walked through the fort's gate and were at the pastures in moments. He led the horse inside and turned to Kayleigh, "Are you sure you want to do this?" He doubted the horse would return to the stall after tasting the small amount of freedom the pasture provided.

She nodded her head and watched with a smile as the horse galloped away after Lancelot had taken back his cloak and untied the leading rope. Kayleigh hoisted herself up to sit on the fence and Lancelot did the same. Joy overfilled her heart as she watched the mare run wildly in the field. She wished she was that horse for a moment. He glanced at her, noticing that she was living vicariously through the horse. Since she arrived, he had never seen her so happy.

"Horses were not made to be pinned up," she commented suddenly, never taking her eyes off the mare. Fury had stopped running and came to a halt before the fence, examining the boundary that kept her from full freedom. Kayleigh's obstacle was Arthur. He was the only one standing between her and freedom. Sadness pierced the light of happiness that shone in her eyes. The two emotions swirled in conflict before sorrow won, driving the brightness away.

Next to her, Lancelot sighed. He could not think of any words that would brighten her up. When it came to words of encouragement, he was the wrong person to turn to. They sat together silently watching as the horse settled and began grazing.

The sun was low in the sky before Lancelot spoke again. "Come," he said, hopping off the fence, "allow me to buy you your last meal."

Kayleigh groaned as she was reminded of what was to come when Arthur heard about the stampeding horse incident. "Do not worry," Lancelot gave her a confident grin, "I won't let him hurt you."

"What, that's it?" She thought he would at least try to convince him that it was an accident.

"That's all I can promise without receiving some kind of compensation for my efforts," he replied suggestively.

They had arrived at the tavern and moved to join the other knights who were sitting down eating their supper. "Lancelot's trying to charm me into his bed again," Kayleigh complained to Galahad, sitting next to him. Lancelot took a seat across from her.

"That must be new for him, having to try. Usually he's startled to find a woman already in his bed when he arrives to his room at night," Bors laughed. He found Lancelot's shortcoming with the woman hilarious.

"Won't you just leave the poor girl alone," Dagonet suggested, smiling warmly at Kayleigh. "It might be better for your ego, as well." Lancelot only shrugged off his warning.

"We heard what happened with the horse today," Gawain said somberly.

Kayleigh frowned, word of her mishaps got around the fort quickly. "I was foolish to attempt bringing her out early but she had already adjusted to wearing the saddle and bridle."

"The shape that horse was in, it's a miracle you got it harnessed," Galahad said, trying to cheer her up. The other men nodded in agreement.

"Where did you learn how to interact with horses," Gawain asked curiously.

She opened her mouth to speak but Tristan beat her to it, giving a different answer than she was going to. "She's from Sarmatia."

"What?" It was Galahad that spoke but all of the knight's eyes darted to Kayleigh. Her face held the same surprised look as the rest of them. She wasn't sure what he knew about her but she didn't think he knew that much. How had he figured her out? How much more did he know? She glared at Tristan before nervously glancing around the table.

"Is that true," Lancelot asked incredulously.

Kayleigh closed her eyes and sighed. She hadn't wanted her secret to come out yet. The bonds between her and knights were slowly growing and she feared this might sever the loose ties she held with them. There was nothing to do now but tell them the truth and hope the damage would be minimal.


	10. A Secret Revealed

A/N: I'm glad I completely stumped you all with Kayleigh's thoughts in the last chapter. I'll enlighten you this chapter. Zelinia, your suggestion made me laugh so hard, I just had to put some kind of version of your idea in this chapter. I just love conflict, and a little violence is just the icing on the cake. So, thank you for your input. Mustang Gal, you must let me know if I write anything stupid about the horse, seeing as how you have one and I don't know anything about them. ElvenStar5, that's the goal mystery, action, humor. Glad I'm giving it. Now, without anymore delay, the answer to all of your questions...

* * *

"Yes," Kayleigh admitted, "I am from Sarmatia." 

"Why would you be ashamed that you are Sarmatian? All of us here are. You have nothing to fear from us," Dagonet spoke gently to her. The other knights nodded in agreement.

It wasn't the fact that she was Sarmatian that made her nervous to reveal her origins. "I am not Sarmatian," she corrected.

Galahad looked at her, confused, "But you just said . . . "

"I know what I said!" She sighed in frustration, "Yes, to the rest of the world, I am Sarmatian. But to the Sarmatian people, I am not. I am from a tribe not worthy of a name. We are made up of men with families who refuse to give their sons up to be slaves for Romans. Sarmatians, always big on their honor, cast these families out of their tribe, calling them oath breakers. What they do not know is that it was their grandfathers that died in the great battle against Rome. Their grandfathers who thought it better to die on their own soil, defending the country they belonged to, then pledge their lives and offsprings' lives to their enemy. They are our ancestors. They made no oath to Rome. We owe Rome nothing!"

The table was silent. They knew of the tribe she spoke of. So much hatred was directed at the tribe that they never stayed in one place more than two nights in a row for fear of being attacked. When they came across other Sarmatian tribes, they suffered horrible insults and injury through the duels they resulted in. Under the fear and anger, it was resentment that caused problems for Kayleigh and her tribe. Why should the other Sarmatian tribes have to give up their sons when they didn't?

No tribe would trade with them. They couldn't sell their goods nobody would buy them. Eventually they turned to raiding as a means of survival. Though they suffered hardship at the hands of their own race, they would not maraud them, for they were still their kinsmen. So they turned to the west and wrecked havoc on the Romans who had taken the lives of their forefathers.

"And yet, here you are, serving our commander in a Roman fort," Tristan mused before taking a sip of wine.

Kayleigh's eyes sparked and she was over the table knocking him to the ground in a flash. Wine splashed onto his face, spilling into his eyes, momentarily blinding him. A loud crack vibrated through the tavern as she brought her fist down into his face. That seemed to shake the knights from their shock and they jumped up to interfere. Lancelot came from behind and drug Kayleigh off the scout as Bors and Dagonet helped Tristan to his feet. He rubbed fiercely at his eyes and Gawain left to get a bowl of water so he could rinse them.

"Barbarian," Tristan spat. Respectable men fought duels with weapons, not with fists, rolling around in the dirt like savages. Kayleigh's foot came up to kick him in the face but luckily Tristan's vision was coming back and he saw the attempt before it came, easily moving out of the way in time. Lancelot pulled her back further so she could do no more harm and wrapped his arms around her tightly, trapping her arms at her sides.

"Let go of me," Kayleigh screamed, flailing her body.

Galahad watched cautiously as the woman attempted to free herself. There was fire in her eyes, but there was also fear. Her fight had turned into panic and her eyes were wide with terror. She was on the verge of losing all control. "She doesn't like to be touched," Galahad remembered. "Let her go!"

"She's going to kill someone," Lancelot yelled over her screams. A crowd had gathered around the tavern, watching the spectacle. They rarely got such entertainment inside the dull fort walls.

"Let go of her now or you're the one that's going to be getting killed," Galahad shouted, drawing his dagger.

A figure crossed the tavern floor, passing the knights, and stopped in front of Lancelot and Kayleigh. A fist darted out, making contact with her chin causing her head to snap back against Lancelot's lightly armored chest. She drooped in his arms, unconscious. He looked down at the tortured girl and back up, "Arthur . . . "

"Take her to her room. She has a lot of explaining to do when she wakes," Arthur said, his face emotionless.

* * *

The darkness faded away as Kayleigh sleepily opened her eyes. Through the fog in her head she saw the most beautiful face she had ever seen. "Hello lovely," he heard the words slip from her smiling lips. The worry from the man's eyes disappeared and he smiled. 

She blinked rapidly trying to clear her mind. The realization that she had just woken up and a man was in her room while she was sleeping hit her suddenly. "Have you been here all night," she asked suspiciously.

He nodded. Her smile disappeared, "Did we . . . I mean, did you and I . . . umm . . . "

"No," he exclaimed laughing. The loud noise brought on a pain deep in her head and she groaned, slipping further under the covers. She vaguely remembered the man that was now in her room had tried to free her from Lancelot's grip. With the pain came the memories from the night before, how Tristan had announced her ethnicity and how she had attacked him.

Kayleigh peered out from under the covers at Galahad, "Did I kill him?"

"No," he shook his head, "but he looks worse for the wear than you do."

Her jaw ached terribly. She brought her hand up to examine the damage. The skin was tender and she felt a slight welt. There had to be a rather large bruise decorating her left cheek. _I wonder what damage I could have caused him that's worse than this,_ she thought wincing.

"You should rest," Galahad said as she moved to rise.

"I'm fine. Thank you for watching over me, but I can manage myself. Besides, I'm sure your commander will want to accuse me of killing his knights now. Perhaps it would be better if you stayed away," she suggested. She seemed to do everything wrong. She didn't want any of the knights to suffer for it.

"Lancelot has already explained the whole situation to Arthur," Galahad informed her. "We all know that you didn't mean anything by it."

"I didn't? I just jumped over the table and tried to throttle the man for nothing?"

Galahad chuckled, "Alright, we know Tristan provoked you. You were only defending your honor. Arthur will not be upset."

"Tell that to my jaw," she said grimly.

* * *

Arthur paced in the Great Hall in front of Kayleigh and Lancelot. She noticed he did that often when he was troubled. "I was going to consider the debt you owe fully paid after you deliver the foal safely. Now I have merchants demanding that justice be delivered and damages paid. And on top of that you attacked one of my most trusted knights. How are you going to rectify yourself now?" 

Kayleigh shrugged. She really hadn't thought about it. "The merchants want 500 denarii for the havoc that horse wrecked," Arthur ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

Lancelot whistled under his breath. He didn't even make that amount in a year. There was no way he could help her pay this debt.

Arthur continued, ignoring the interruption, "How am I supposed to come up with that money? We have a tight budget around here, I can't go giving away money whenever you have an 'accident'," Arthur said sarcastically. It was obvious he didn't believe any of her actions were accidents.

"I didn't mean any harm," she said quietly.

"You meant Tristan harm, did you not?" Kayleigh could say nothing in response that would not incriminate her.

Lancelot sighed, "I told you already Arthur, Tristan provoked her."

"Provoked or not, I cannot have fighting in my fort. We are already tense enough as it is. You've left me no choice but to punish you with prison time." Arthur regretted putting anyone in prison. They never seemed to come out the same. But if that's what would ease the merchants' anger at the destruction she caused and set an example to warn the other soldiers away from conflict, he would do so.

At that moment, Tristan strode into the room and all looked to him. Lancelot's eyes narrowed at him. Kayleigh looked over Tristan's form. She couldn't help but smile when she saw the tattoo he wore below his right eye was hidden under a massive black bruise. He looked at her and nodded. She thought she saw the corners of his mouth rise slightly, in a hint of a smile, before he turned to Arthur.

"The incident between Kayleigh and I was a personal matter. It was not a malicious attack. I believe I may have insulted her, which I now regret," he said, attempting to apologize. Kayleigh nodded her acceptance. She wasn't sure how she could make up for wailing on him and nearly blinding him. "I would like to solve the matter with her in private," he added.

"I understand that you like to keep personal affairs to yourself, Tristan. But I cannot have civilians attacking soldiers thinking that they will not be met with repercussions," Arthur explained. "You'll spend a week in prison, then be released to carry out your normal duties," he told Kayleigh.

Tristan nodded and left as Arthur called to Jols, instructing him to take Kayleigh to the prison. Jols reluctantly lead her from the room. She spotted Tristan walking down the hallway and called to him. He turned and waited for the pair to catch up.

"Why did you do that," she asked curiously. The last thing she expected that he would do was admit he was wrong and discourage Arthur from punishing her harshly.

"You are not easily intimidated. I respect that. We have much in common," his tongue darted over his top lip. He opened his mouth slightly but no words came out, as if he couldn't decide what to say next. Kayleigh as about to ask him what he meant when he spun on his heel, exiting the building into the fresh air, something she would not breathe in seven days.


	11. Visiting Knights

A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews. They always make my day! Sorry it's taken me awhile to get this up, I got distracted with other things. Speaking of, I wrote a little St. Patrick's Day bit that I'll be posting on Monday entitled "Patrick's Calling" so make sure you all read it and review, of course. It will about a week before I can add another chapter to this story, I'll be on vacation. So I hope this and Monday's storywill hold you over until then.

ElvenStar5- No, they aren't from the same tribe, the boys in her tribe are not commisioned to Rome. But nice guess.

Zelinia- You're welcome for punching Tristan, hope I can do it again soon.(j/k) Sorry to hear you're grounded, who will give me suggestions for the next chapter now?

Blarneylvrose- It took me awhile to find out who you were, but after consulting our anonymous source, I'm very happy you reviewed. Yes, I have created many avenues for Kayleigh regarding love interest, that's to keep you all guessing. I hear you have a passion for all things Irish. I like you already!

A side note about Tristan: I'm not going to have his background the same as the character in the Arthurian legends. I think I read/saw somewhere that the writers/producer/director only used the knight's names because they are familiar names and easier to remember than any Sarmatian names they would think up. They are not necessarily the same characters as in Arthurian legend.

* * *

The prison was dim and damp. The air heavy with humidity and desolation. The only light came from torches on the walls near the doorway. Kayleigh was grateful she didn't have to share a cell with the only other prisoner staying there. The large man threw her glances that made her skin crawl. The keeper sat at his desk near the door working on reports of the new prisoner. 

Kayleigh sat on the straw mattress that was her bed, contemplating the events of the previous night. She had not given the knights time to respond to her recent revelations. Her outburst only confirmed the other tribes' belief that Kayleigh's kind were truly savages, lower then even the Rhoxolani. Her elbows rested on her knees and she dropped her head into her hands with a heavy sigh. _Damn my pride_, she thought with contempt, _and damn my impulsiveness_. Those two qualities were responsible for every misfortune she had since she first arrived in Rome.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the man on the other side of the steel bars, "How did a pretty thing like you end up in here? Did you steal from your customer as he was sleeping, whore?" He bared his stained teeth at her in a taunting smile.

Kayleigh glared at him and opened her mouth to respond. "Silence," the keeper at the desk ordered over his shoulder. The prisoner let out a low rumble of a laugh leaning back against the bars, staring at her.

A few hours in silence passed before there was a knock at the door. Sunlight streamed in, blinding Kayleigh. "Food for the woman," she heard a deep voice say as the door closed again. Kayleigh rubbed her eyes trying to brush away the colorful dots that blurred her vision.

"You must be a cheap toss in the hay if your customers can afford to buy your meal as well," the man staring at her said.

"It would be wise of you to look upon a woman's friends before insulting her virtue. You may decide it not worth the risk," a voice warned near the door.

"Dagonet," she called to him. She recognized him before she was able to see clearly. The keeper came forward with him, opening the cell door and closing it after Dagonet had entered. He returned to his desk after locking Dagonet in with Kayleigh. She was about to remark upon how amusing it was being locked up with Dagonet as company but she thought better of it with the audience she had. She didn't want to give the other prisoner any more encouragement with his lewd comments.

The smell of beef stew rose from the bowl Dagonet handed her. She smiled at him gratefully. He talked as she ate, bringing news from the outside world. "Haggan tried to harness the mare and bring it back to the stables. He tried to lure her to him with an apple and it nearly bit off his hand."

Kayleigh almost choked on her food with laughter. "I am sorry to hear it," she said in a sly voice, "and that I wasn't there to see it with my own eyes. What of the horse now?"

"She was returned safely to the stables by Lancelot. He has a way with horses," Dagonet explained.

"Yes, he takes his clothing off for them," she said wittily.

The man in the next cell made a noise of disgust, "Another of your customers? Sounds like he has some strange desires. Probably not the strangest request you have gotten and I'm sure you have no trouble complying."

"Quiet," Dagonet growled at the man. He was growing tired of enduring the man's insults to Kayleigh. He wanted nothing more than to cut out the man's tongue and force him to swallow it. But the man remained untouched on the other side of the bars.

A warm hand was placed on his forearm. "It's okay," Kayleigh said, her voice lower than normal. She wanted him to know that she could handle whatever the man threw her way.

Dagonet relaxed and nodded, rising to his feet. "I shall see you after you are released," he said, then turned and left after the keeper had opened the door for him.

* * *

The next day Kayleigh was laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling when she heard a familiar voice, "Have you been a bad girl?" 

She looked up to see Lancelot grinning down at her through the bars, wagging a finger at her. Laughing, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. The prison keeper had opened the door to let Lancelot in and he leaned against the bars opposite her.

"I would punch Tristan any day if I thought it would get me thrown in here with you," he said, winking. "I could use the vacation."

"And I could use decent company," she said, turning and glaring at the man in the next cell.

"My companionship is always available to you," Lancelot stated suggestively.

The other prisoner snorted, "You two are perfect for each other. A loose woman and an easy man."

"Keep it up and I won't be easy on you when you are released," Lancelot warned the man who immediately fell silent.

"I heard you have been caring for my horse," Kayleigh brought up. She had been thinking about Fury all day and hoped that Haggan hadn't undone any of the progress she had made with the horse.

Lancelot nodded, "She is doing well. I am making sure of it. I wouldn't want all your efforts to go to waste."

"Thank you," she said sincerely. A moment of silence passed as Kayleigh fidgeted with her hands. "About the other night . . . I didn't mean to "

"Don't worry about it," he interrupted. It was the last thing he wanted to think about. Not all of the knights took her news so well. Lancelot preferred just to forget about the whole ordeal.

"It must have been an awkward situation for you. I didn't mean to cause adversity between any of the knights. I truly am sorry," she apologized.

He brushed her concerns off with a wave of his hand, "We have had our arguments before. This is nothing new."

Kayleigh raised a questioning eyebrow. "When we first arrived here," Lancelot explained, "we were all on edge, and quite full of ourselves. We were knights now, after all."

"Seems like some still have a rather large ego," Kayleigh grinned at Lancelot.

He chuckled at her comment, "'Tis true, milady. But after much work, Arthur has settled us down. For the most part, we get along easily. Though some of us cannot be tamed." He coughed twice, inserting the word "me" in between them.

Kayleigh did not laugh, "Is that what Arthur has planned for me? 'Taming' me as if I'm some wild beast?"

"Serves you right. I hear that's how you act," the man in the other cell spoke up again.

"Shut up, Brogan, or I will step outside and leave you unattended with the knight," the keeper threatened.

Lancelot ignored the man and sighed, "Arthur only means to do what he thinks is best. He does not want to change you."

"Oh, I am sure he doesn't," she said sarcastically, rising to her feet. "Why do you always defend him? What has he ever done for you?"

He pushed himself off the bars he was leaning against, standing straight. The conversation was turning serious now and he stepped closer to her, lowering his voice so the prison keeper could not hear. "He has saved my life in battle, Lady, as he has for many others."

"You would not even have been in battle if it weren't for him," she whispered harshly.

Lancelot shook his head fiercely as if the thought had occurred in his mind before and he struggled to keep it away, "It was Rome that took me from my homeland, not Arthur."

"Arthur is a Roman," she said, abandoning the hushed voice in her anger.

Lancelot noticed the prison keeper turn his head slightly to listen in on their conversation. Any hint of opposition toward the commander would only lead to more trouble. He thought quickly to cover for her, "Of course he's Roman! How hard were you hit in the head, silly girl?"

She looked at him, confused. "You should really get some rest," he continued before she could say anything. He called to the keeper to let him out and he was gone before Kayleigh could recover.

The keeper returned to his desk oblivious to Kayleigh's voiced opinion, but Brogan had heard it all. A crooked smile crept onto his face as a plan formed in his head. He had a role for her, and it involved more than just keeping his bed warm.


	12. A Breath of Fresh Air

Finally another chapter. I know, I'm sorry it took so long. I've been sick. So hopefully some of this makes sense and it's not just the ramblings of a delirious (and well drugged) mind. Thanks for all the reviews from last chapter, I was impressed. I expect to get just as many this chapter. And please, if it doesn't make sense, tell me so I can fix it. Happy reading.

* * *

Hours in the prison dragged by and it seemed to Kayleigh that it took a year's time for each day to pass. That afternoon would mark the seventh day of her imprisonment. She would be released, but not freed, for her duties still bound her to Arthur. She had received no more visitors since Lancelot's departure five days ago. Her mind wandered back to that day. 

(Five days ago)

After the prison keeper had fallen asleep and his snoring filled the air, Brogan spoke to her quietly in more seriousness than she thought him capable. "Let's get to the business at hand," he had said to her.

"What business could I possibly have with such a degenerate creature as you," she sneered at him.

She had spirit. He gave her credit for that much. "We have much in common . . . " he started.

Kayleigh snorted, "I fail to see that."

"We are both here, sentenced unjustly for petty disturbances," he reasoned.

"I'm hardly innocent, and I doubt very much that you are," said Kayleigh, irritated. She did not like those who didn't take responsibility for their actions. Those who blamed others for their sufferings while dealing with the consequences of those actions she liked even less.

"No, we aren't innocent," he agreed. "But do you think you deserved this," he motioned with his hand at their surroundings. She did not answer and Brogan took her silence as an opportunity to further his cause. "Arthur is the tyrant standing between you and what you want."

Kayleigh let out a breath of air that sounded like a combination of a sigh and a laugh at once, "And how would you know what I want?"

"It is what every oppressed person wants – freedom. I can help you get it," he baited her in. He knew the suggestion would be too sweet for her to pass up.

"How?" she asked curiously.

"Once the knights are out of the way, Arthur and Roman Britain will fall to their foes." The corners of his mouth twitched, revealing his crooked stained smile.

Kayleigh eyed him suspiciously. She didn't know what plan he had in mind but getting the knights 'out of the way' turned her off to the whole idea. There was a soft spot in her heart for the men she had only just met a month ago. "I don't want any part of your schemes," she said resolutely.

"We would be powerful allies working together – you with your inside connections to the knights and me with my outside contacts. After seizing control of the fort we would have a base to launch attacks on the rest of the island," he said, revealing the extent of his revolutionary plans.

"I'll hear no more of your crazed talk," Kayleigh exclaimed, sickened by the thought of betraying the knights. Kayleigh's raised voice woke the prison keeper who quickly silenced them with threats of longer prison sentences.

(Back to present)

It was now five days later and Brogan had not spoken another word to her, but her memory replayed the conversation countless times. She wondered what 'disturbance' he had caused to be sent to the prison. And was that why he wanted to overthrow Arthur, for revenge? Or was there another reason? But as Jols entered the prison and ordered Kayleigh's release, she soon forgot about Brogan and his wild suggestions. As long as he was in prison he could not act out his deranged ideas.

Kayleigh squinted her eyes as she stepped outside, giving them time to adjust to the brightness of the sun. A soft breeze caught her hair and she smiled, inhaling deeply. It was a welcoming change from the stale air of the prison. She glanced around her to gain her bearings. It seemed so long ago that she had first made the trip to the prison, she wasn't sure which way she had come from.

Jols came up from behind her, offering his arm and guidance. She accepted and they walked the streets in silence. Something didn't seem right. The streets didn't seem as lively as they had a week ago. The fort seemed . . . empty. Kayleigh looked up to the fort wall and saw only two soldiers keeping watch. The streets were free of any foot patrols. The training grounds were abandoned. She raised a questioning eyebrow at Jols, "Where is everybody?"

"Word came from Rome that the invading Goths were weakening the Empire's defenses. In order to secure the city's stronghold, Commander Flavius Stilicho recalled the Sixth Victrix back to the continent. Now Britain has only half of the soldiers it once had to protect its borders," Jols explained.

"And the knights," Kayleigh asked curiously. They had made her time here much more bearable. Though she couldn't be sure they would consider her a friend after learning her background. She still had not heard from Galahad, Gawain, or Bors since that night a week ago.

"They remain, though their increased duties have them overworked," answered Jols.

"Doesn't Rome know of the situation with the Saxons? How could they leave the defenses here so thinly spread," Kayleigh inquired, a crinkle of worry appearing on her forehead.

Jols sighed, "They know, Arthur saw to that himself. Britannia has been put on the back burner I'm afraid."

They soon arrived at Kayleigh's room where they parted. After quickly washing herself with water from the washbasin, she changed into her riding clothes and hurried to the stables. She was eager to check on the condition of the pregnant mare.

The horse was calm as she entered the stall. Kayleigh ran her hands over the animal checking for injuries but found nothing but well toned muscles. Someone had been exercising her in Kayleigh's absence. It seemed the horse had recovered from her near death very nicely and would be able to birth a healthy foal. She reached up and scratched behind Fury's ear. "I wish you were in condition to ride," she whispered. A taste of freedom would do her good after being cooped up in that cell for a week.

"She looks in good condition to me," a voice behind her startled her. She turned to see Gawain leading his horse from its stall.

"Yes," Kayleigh agreed, "but it is late in her pregnancy. She's already producing milk. It won't be long now. I would not want to chance a premature birth."

"You can come with me if you'd like," Gawain suggested as he saddled his horse.

"Where are you going?"

"Hunting," he said. He strapped a bow and quiver to his saddle and took a spear from the far wall. "Some of us are tired of the stale rations Arthur is feeding us. He refuses to buy any fresh food."

"Why is that," she wondered.

Gawain shrugged, "Something about the budget."

Kayleigh realized it was probably her fault. Arthur had to pay the fine the merchants demanded from the damages Fury caused. That didn't leave much money to buy other supplies. "I would like to help, but I'm afraid my extra weight would slow your horse too much to be able to chase game successfully."

"Take mine," Lancelot offered from the stables entrance. "I won't be needing him soon. I have watch next." He knew she would take good care of the horse.

She nodded appreciatively and prepared for the expedition. Gawain brought her an extra bow and quiver full of arrows which she secured to the horse. They headed out of the fort toward the woods in uncomfortable silence. Kayleigh didn't know where she stood with the knights anymore and didn't have the courage to ask outright.

Gawain's curiosity regarding Kayleigh's past only increased as each little detail about her had surfaced. He took the opportunity to inquire more into her background. "Why did you leave Sarmatia," he asked suddenly, catching Kayleigh off guard.

After a moment of studying him, determining his intentions, she answered, "To find my brother."

"You did not know where he was?"

"No," was the only reply he got.

He shook his head, smiling. Her short responses shouldn't surprise him. Answering personal questions and readily volunteering information on herself was something she did not like to do. To get more than a one word answer from her, he would need to ask more open ended questions. "How did you get separated from him?"

Kayleigh took a deep breath before starting, her voice distant, "My father was returning from a raiding expedition with a band of men from our tribe. The Sarmatian horses they rode had more speed and endurance than any the Romans had, thus losing any enemy that might follow. Except for this day. The great quantity of loot they carried weighed the horses down, causing them to slow. They stumbled easily in the snow and the Romans overtook them, slaughtering them a mere hour's ride from our camp. My brother, while hunting, happened upon the scene. He rode back to camp to warn us of the danger, but in doing so, also revealed our location to the Romans.

"We had little time to prepare. My brother, who was only ten winters old at the time and I eight, instructed me to hide in the tall grass that surrounded our camp, and not to come out until he fetched me. The Romans came down upon my people hard, murdering all the men. The women and children were herded together and my brother picked from the crowd. I did not know what they wanted of him but he did not agree with it until my mother's life was threatened. They took him and as many horses as they could handle from our tribe. Once he was out of sight, five soldiers returned and slaughtered the remainder of my people. I didn't move from my hiding place for three days," Kayleigh finished.

Gawain shook his head in disbelief. "You must have been terrified."

"I was a coward. I should have done something," her voice rose angrily. Guilt from that day had plagued her her whole life.

"You were only a child," Gawain argued. He sympathized with her. He had been taken away by the Romans from everything he knew when he was eight. He was taken away from his blood family but he had gained another in his friends, in his brothers-in-arms. He held hope that his relatives still thrived in Sarmatia. Kayleigh could hold no such hope for herself. She had everything taken from her and was left to fend for herself, alone.

They were now deep into the forest and could no longer ride side by side. Gawain took the lead, knowing the land from years of experience. The layers of thick tree branches overhead blocked most of the light provided by the sun and the shade made the air feel colder than it really was.

"You cannot blame yourself for not going to their defense. What would you have done, a mere child," he asked.

Silence.

"Kayleigh . . . " he turned around in his saddle to look behind him but nobody was there. His eyes darted around him, searching through the trees for signs of her and Lancelot's horse. There was nothing but trees and undergrowth in sight. He turned his horse around and kicked his horse in a gallop down the trail. "Kayleigh!" he now yelled, unconcerned with the wild game he was frightening away.

"What?" came an exasperated shout from his right. He reigned in his horse and turned to see Kayleigh coming out from the thick bushes. She spotted his worried face and started laughing. "You're wearing that face for me?"

Gawain crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "You can't just disappear like that, not with all our enemies out here," he warned.

"They aren't my enemies," she corrected. "Besides, I thought we were hunting. Come see what I got." She led him back through the bushes to a clearing on the other side where Lancelot's horse was tethered to a tree. "I'll let you heft this beast back to the fort since you're the strong, brave knight," she said tapping with the toe of her boot the wild boar she had killed, two arrows protruding from its head.

* * *

Galahad came into the open space before the tavern. He had looked everywhere for Gawain but to no avail. Lancelot was at a table gambling with a group of soldiers. Galahad approached, "Have you seen Gawain?" 

Lancelot grumbled as he lost another round and turned to the younger knight, "He went hunting with Kayleigh."

"Kayleigh?"

"Yes, but that was before my watch. I haven't seen them since," Lancelot added. It wasn't too unusual for a hunting trip to take all day, especially if game wasn't easy to come by that day.

A pair of laughing voices rang through the air and he and Galahad turned to see Gawain and Kayleigh stroll up to the tavern's bar. Gawain had a wild boar's carcass draped across his shoulders as if it were an injured lamb. He lifted it and let it fall to the bar's counter with a loud bang, drawing the attention of the business's patrons. "Put our friend here on the spit," Gawain instructed the barkeep. "Galahad, Lancelot," he waved them over.

They looked over the animal. "Looks like we're eating good tonight, Gawain," Lancelot exclaimed happily.

"Thanks to Kayleigh," Gawain clapped her on the shoulder.

The two newcomers looked at her surprisingly. "You killed the boar," Galahad asked in disbelief.

"I like fresh meat," she said suggestively, winking at Galahad who blushed in response. Lancelot and Gawain couldn't help laughing at the younger knight's face.


	13. Freedom Reigns

I'm so glad you all liked my last chapter more than me. I thought it was rubbish. This one isn't much better but I guess I'm my worst critic. Hope this one doesn't disappoint too much. It's really short but I promise to come back with something great next week. I've got a road trip coming up so unless I have to drive, I imagine I'll have tons of time to do nothing but write some (hopefully) good fic.

Raynacch- I'm glad you think it's original. Nice to hear from you.

KAfan- Love your fic! Glad my last chapter wasn't hard to understand. Sorry to make you wait with Brogan.

Evenstar- I had that fresh meat line in mind for awhile. May or may not have come to me while thinking of the story hehe

Mustang Gal- More from Galahad presently. I hope it's satisfactory.

Babaksmiles- Thank you for the welcome back! Of course she's not going to tell the knights of Brogan. Where would my story go then?

Blarneylvrose- I put some of Arthur in here for you, though too much of him will spoil what I've already written for the future.

SpectralLady- You will soon see she had others to help her on her way to becoming a woman (if she is indeed there already). I don't think it would be realistic to expect an eight year old to survive on her own without any help whatsoever.

Zelinia- I would not wish for you to be sick and immobilized just to get some good writing out of you. I'm sure you do just as good when you're healthy. I prefer not to be conscious at all when I'm sick, then I don't have to deal with the discomfort, which is why last chapter took so long. I have no excuse this time, except that the words aren't coming to me as easily as before and I'm having a hard time connecting my ideas into any kind of constructive flow.

Thanks again for everyone that replied. The rest of you, I respond to my replies just to stall you from your reading enjoyment. Serves you right. Here's an idea, write a reply and all of this at the top won't be completely useless!

* * *

Gawain and Lancelot withdrew to find a table while waiting for their dinner to roast. Kayleigh sat next to Galahad at the bar who was idly tracing the brim of his mug with his finger. "We would be happy if you would join us Galahad," she invited him cheerfully. 

"I'm not hungry," he said quietly, still focused on the mug.

Kayleigh sighed, "I didn't mean to embarrass you in front of the knights. I'm sorry."

He did not answer and she took hold of his arm, giving it a gentle tug, "Come sit down with me."

Galahad yanked his arm free of her grasp, "I said I'm not interested!"

His tone startled her. She could not think of any reason he would be angry at her and looked to Lancelot and Gawain for their input but they only shrugged a response. "What did I do to offend you," she finally asked. "Please tell me so I can apologize and we can get past it."

He bowed his head, his voice barely above a whisper, "You think it's so simple."

"It doesn't have to be complicated," she reasoned gently.

"But it is!" His frustration at the situation compelled him from his seat and he stormed from the tavern area.

Kayleigh ran to catch up with him. "Galahad," she called out to him but he continued, ignoring her requests to slow down. She caught up with him and grasped his shoulder, "Galahad!" He whirled on her and she took a step back, startled by the conflict in his eyes.

Frightening her was the last thing he wanted to do. He sighed, stepping back to lean against the nearest building, the energy running from him. "Kayleigh..." he started, but no words to explain his strange actions came to him. He ran a hand through his curly black hair. He would just have to tell her. "It's your tribe. They caused a lot of trouble for me, for my family."

"My tribe?" She was confused for a moment, then realization sank in. The acceptance she had gained thus far had been too good to be true. She had let her hopes up too soon.

"Do you think the Romans just went back to their homes, defeated? Every time the Exiles raided, someone was punished. Many times my tribe bore the blunt of Roman anger. Our villages burned, flocks slaughtered...such things are not easily forgotten," he finished with anger in his eyes, anger that had long since been buried but resurrected by the revelation of Kayleigh's origins. The hurt he saw in her eyes was too much to face, so he turned and left, leaving her standing in the street, stunned.

* * *

Arthur found Kayleigh in the stables later that night. He sought her out to bridge the gap that kept the two on guard around each other. "How are you doing," he started, unsure of what to talk about with the girl. 

She took a break from the grooming session she was giving Fury. She turned to Arthur, eying him suspiciously. Why had he suddenly taken an interest in her well being? "Better now that I'm not locked up," she told him shortly. Her mood was dark since Galahad's confessions earlier that day. "I am more than capable of fulfilling my duties, you need not worry," she added, assuming that was the reason he came to check on her.

He nodded, "I know you are. That is not why I'm here." He smiled when she raised her eyebrows questioningly. "I did not mean for you to start back to work the same day as your release. Why don't you take a few days off," he offered.

"I would rather not," she said quickly, without need to think the idea over. "It keeps me busy," she explained._ My mind would be better not to have the time to mull over what other people think of me_, she added to herself silently, though the simple task of brushing the horse had given her much time to do so already.

"It would give us time to talk," he urged her. He had been so busy with his own duties that he hadn't had a chance to get to know her as the knights had.

Kayleigh picked up the brush and started grooming the horse again. "What would we talk about? We have nothing in common," she deducted.

"It may seem that way, but that's because we haven't had time to find the common ground," Arthur suggested. He could see she did not buy this answer. After thinking a moment he continued, "There is one thing I know we have in common. We both care for the knights. I know you hold them in the highest regards. They also have a soft spot for you, even the toughest of them."

This made her look at him, a hint of a smile evident on her face. What he said was true. She regarded him for a moment. The knights respected him, even if he was a Roman. Maybe he was worth speaking to.

Just then Jols rushed in, face flushed, out of breath. "Arthur," he tried to speak but the words came out jumbled and halted. "Trouble... Saxons...tracking party...Tristan...news," was all that Kayleigh got from it.

Arthur turned to Kayleigh, "We'll finish this later." She nodded as he turned and headed back to headquarters, a panting Jols struggling to keep up.

* * *

Some time later, Fury was spotless and her coat shined in the dim light. Kayleigh did not know how long she had been there but she noticed three of the lanterns had gone out, their fuel depleted. The horse grew tired of Kayleigh's looming presence and nearly butted her out of the stall. Unwilling to board herself up in her room for the night, she laid back in a pile of clean hay. The last thing she wanted was to be enclosed in stone walls so soon after her release from prison. 

She nearly drifted off to sleep but was started awake by the sound of Tristan settling his horse in its stall. Pulling herself up she approached him, "I can do that if you want."

He spun around to see the owner of the voice. The fact that he hadn't noticed her to begin with gave away the fact that he was exhausted. He cursed himself. Such recklessness could get him killed away from the fort. Shaking his head, he turned back to his horse, "I alone take to the care of my horse." His horse, hawk, weapons, and armor were all that he had in the world, and he took very good care of each.

Their last confrontation came to Kayleigh's mind and she stared at the back of his head willing it to open and reveal all his secret thoughts to her. But all that moved was a strand of hair in the breeze that had come loose from his tousled braids. It was still a mystery to her why he had come to Arthur after their fight taking part of the blame upon himself to spare her from harsher punishment.

"Tristan," she started. When he did not turn around she resigned to talking to his back. "I did not have a chance to thank you for speaking to Arthur. Or to apologize for that matter... for my behavior that night," she looked at the ground, slightly embarrassed.

"You're welcome," was his abrupt response, though it didn't seem sincere to her.

"Here," she said, taking the dragon pin from her cloak and handing it to him in a gesture of peace. "It's from Sarmatia," she explained as he took it from her. "A piece of home," she smiled at him.

He examined it, turning it in his hands. It was not large, but looked valuable with a ruby for its eye. Putting it in his pocket, he turned to thank her but found himself alone in the stables with the horses.

* * *

Kayleigh did not find out what the trouble with the Saxons was until the next morning. She was rudely awakened by Dagonet tripping over her legs. "Kayleigh," he exclaimed as he recovered from his stumble. "What are you doing out here so early?" 

She pulled herself up to sit leaning against a post at the training grounds. "I needed to be out in the open," she said rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Dagonet helped her up and she followed him to the armory. Her mind wandered back to the frantic Jols of last night as she watched Dagonet gather two armfuls of spears, lances, axes, and quivers of arrows. "Is there trouble," she asked him, concern lining her features.

They exited the armory and headed to the stables where the knights were packing their mounts. "Aye," Dagonet answered. "There had been word of thieves in the south bogs stealing iron from the smelters that forge our weapons. We did not know they were Saxons until Tristan followed their tracks, discovering a series of encampments. He rode hard all day to inform us of his findings."

The knights came forward as Dagonet emptied his arms with a loud crash on the ground. They each took various weapons from the stockpile in front of her. "You're leaving to expel them now," she asked, astonished. There were so few of them, how had they come up with a strategy so quickly and short of notice? And more importantly, one that would be successful?

"No," Dagonet shook his head, moving to saddle his own horse. "We go to Longovicium first, the nearest fort to the encampments, to recruit more fighters for the mission. The Saxon armies numbers are too great for us to take on alone."

"Maybe we should bring the spitfire with us," Bors nodded towards Kayleigh. "She always seems to have a fight in her," he joked.

His comments received glares from all in his audience; Tristan and Lancelot for their roles in one of those fights, Gawain and Dagonet for his suggestion at putting her in harm's way, and Galahad who was still avoiding her and did not have need for any more uncomfortable moments.

Kayleigh herself was not keen on the idea of dying the day after receiving a small sliver of freedom. Besides, why should she put herself in danger for Rome? The empire took all she had once held dear to her heart. What did she care if the Saxons overtook the island, denying the corrupted Romans possession of valuable land and loyal (in the South, anyway) servants?

"You do your job, and I'll do mine," she said, gathering a bucket of fresh water for Fury. "The sooner it is done, the sooner we can leave here."

"Knights," Arthur walked into the building. "It will be a long journey, I'll explain the plan of action on the way." Jols brought him his horse and he turned to Kayleigh before leading his men out, "If there is trouble, I will hear about it on my return." She nodded understanding to his not so subtle warning. He mounted and they were off in a cloud of dust.


	14. An Arrival and a Homecoming

A/N: Alright all, here it is! It was a lot of fun writing and I hope it's just as fun to read. Sorry Mustanggal, I emailed you, maybe you didn't get it, but I said take your time to reply. I lied, I'm an impatient person and was too excited about this chapter. I had to post it right away. Tell me if I messed anything up.

Raynacch SilverMoon- There will be more action in the next chapter, I promise!

Zelinia- Let me know if I've writen the knights OOC. I'm not sure with this one.

SpectralLady- What do you think, should I have Galahad apologize to Kayleigh or should I continue to keep it a problem between the two?

Babaksmiles- Thanks for the comments. Still not sure about the pairings but there will be lots of Tristan in this story either way.

Evenstar-mor2004-Tristan did seem to walk away with a lot in the movie didn't he? I watched it again today and noticed that in the beginning, during the Round Table scene he did not stand at all for the Bishop. I knew that while the others were taking their seats after standing, he was already sitting. But when the Bishop comes in and the rest are standing, he's pouring himself a drink! He only stands up when the cupbearer brings the fancy goblet to him, then he sits right back down! lol

KAfan- Thank you for forgiving me. This one is longer and (in my opinion) better. I did have a nice road trip, thank you. I hope you like this chapter. Loving your story, as always.

* * *

"Lavena!" Kayleigh hurried down the hall looking for the maid she had befriended two months ago. The knights had been gone over a week but Kayleigh hadn't the time to worry or miss their presence with the foal's birth days away. So much needed to be done before the newborn's arrival and Kayleigh had set out to work the hour of the knights' departure. 

"Lavena!" she called into the kitchen. With no reply she moved on through the corridors all the while calling the maid's name.

"What?" she heard a voice call back from the Great Hall. She rushed in to find Lavena scrubbing the floor. Upon seeing Kayleigh, she jumped to her feet knocking the pail over, sending the dirty water cascading through the tiles. "Is Jols back? Is he hurt?" she blurted out excitedly.

"Jols?" Lavena blushed at having been caught worrying about the man.

Kayleigh smiled knowingly, "You're interested in him."

"No, I'm not," she denied quickly, making it much more obvious that it was a lie. "What did you need," she asked, changing the subject.

Kayleigh knelt down to help her clean up the water. "Do you know where I can find a bar of soap and clean rags?"

"Follow me." Lavena led her to her storeroom of supplies and gave her the items she requested.

"Thank you," Kayleigh said before dashing for the door. She stopped short and turned, "Do you ever get a day off?"

Lavena nodded, "Day after next."

"You should come by and see the new foal."

The maid smiled and nodded, accepting the offer. People rarely acknowledged her presence, let alone invite her for company. Her profession called for her to be invisible and it was hard to get out of that state of mind when she was not performing her duties. "Is it to be born soon," she asked.

"Tonight, I'm expecting," Kayleigh answered with a smile before rushing off to the stables.

She found Haggan there cleaning out the stalls. "This is the last of the supplies we need," she told him, taking the grooming tools from Fury's stall. Earlier that week they had moved her to the grazing field to give her more space.

"She's acting strangely," he informed Kayleigh as they walked to the field.

"Of course she is. She's uncomfortable." Kayleigh set Haggan to work washing Fury's back end, which he did with much resistance, while Kayleigh braided and wrapped the horse's tail to keep it out of the way. They moved to the other side of the fence and watched as Fury paced in the field. Every few minutes the horse would lie down, flattening the curly wisps of green grass only to rise moments later.

Kayleigh looked at the sky, the sun was low and the weather was fair. "Come get me if anything changes," she told Haggan, turning to leave.

"Wait! Where are you going," Haggan asked, a little more than nervous at being left alone with the mare.

She threw him an annoyed glance, "To get food, unless you would rather go hungry. Horses tend to birth under the protected cover of night."

Kayleigh stopped by her room for her cloak and blanket before headed to the tavern. After gathering two plates of meat and bread, she made her way back to the field. She handed Haggan a plate and the blanket. It might be in the dark hours of morning before the horse gave birth and she was determined not to freeze or starve. They ate in silence watching as the horse stomped its feet and rolled around on its back.

The moon climbed high in the sky as the hours passed. The beams shined down, giving sufficient light on the cloudless morning. Haggan leaned against a post, wrapped in the blanket, fast asleep. _A lot of good you are_, Kayleigh thought, then turned her attention back to the field. She watched intensely as Fury lay on her side and whinnied loudly, the contractions starting. The fluid that usually preceded the contractions did not come and Kayleigh squinted her eyes in an attempt of a better view.

"What is that," Haggan asked rather loudly upon seeing something exiting the mare.

"Get out of here," Kayleigh hissed, pushing him. She did not believe he was worthy of witnessing the sacred event. He had nearly killed the horse and her foal already.

He crossed his arms in front of him angrily, "You're supposed to be teaching me about these things, remember Horse Maiden?"

She growled quietly in frustration before the horse's loud whinnies brought back her attention. "Something's wrong," she said gathering their supplies. Kayleigh looked at the stable boy sternly, "You can come, but I don't want a word uttered from your mouth. And you'll do as I say. Understood?"

Haggan nodded and followed her onto the field where the horse lay. The foal's legs and muzzle were just visible but covered with a thin layer of clear tissue. It blocked air from getting to the foal's nostrils. Kayleigh tore it away and liquid poured out. She turned to Haggan, "Hand me that rag." He just stood there staring dumbly at the scene, the blood flowing from his already pale skin. "Haggan," she said strictly. That seemed to pull him from his daze. He looked at her with wide eyes before falling to the ground, unconscious.

Kayleigh would have laughed if not in the urgent situation she was in. Instead, she grabbed the rag from his limp hand, wiping the fluid from the foal's muzzle. She did not want it to drown on taking its first breath. Grabbing Haggan under the arms, she pulled him out of the way for the horse to continue its delivery.

Fury's delivery was hard but after the foal's shoulders were through, the rest slipped out easily. Kayleigh sighed in relief that she did not need to assist any further. Quietly, she stepped forward to check on the foal. Sudden movement could cause the mare to startle, prematurely severing the umbilical cord.

The foal did not move and Kayleigh's heart dropped to discover it was not breathing. She turned it on its haunches to extract the excess fluid from its mouth and nose. Taking a clean rag, she briskly massaged it, hoping it was enough to revive it. After receiving no response, she breathed into its nose gently, careful not to over-inflate its small lungs.

Finally, the small horse came to life, giving a high-pitched cry. Leaving it next to its mother, she went to Haggan side. "Haggan," she called, trying to wake him. He did not move and she thought again about waking him. Although she did not particularly enjoy his company, she needed warm water to wash the foal in. Her hand came forward, slapping him hard in the face.

His eyes flew open but the blood did not return to his cheeks, even with the harsh treatment his left cheek had just received. Kayleigh pulled him to his feet, "Go warm some water for the foal." Still too sick to argue, he left to do as she said. Being the annoyance that he was, she could not deny that hitting him felt good.

He returned shortly with a pail of steaming water. Kayleigh instructed him on how to clean the naval after the mare's movements broke the umbilical cord. "It's a boy," he announced like a proud father. "The playing grounds are now equal." Kayleigh only rolled her eyes in response.

"Why don't you go home? There is nothing left to do but watch that the foal makes it to its feet and drinks of the mare," she suggested. He needed no encouragement to leave. She was left to watch the first sweet moments of mother and son bonding. Sitting on the fence, she watched with amusement as the foal took its first wobbly steps.

After discarding the afterbirth and clearing the field of debris, she sat down, leaning against a post. She hadn't slept in two days and the excitement of that night had exhausted her. Her eyes drooped closed lazily as the sun rose.

* * *

A wet nose nudging her woke her from the light nap. She laughed as the colt backed away, tripping on its own legs and falling to the ground. The young horse was a curious one and would probably get into as much, if not more, trouble than its mother. The colt moved on to explore the rest of the field while Fury looked on protectively. 

In the distance Kayleigh heard hoof beats and turned to see the knights cresting a hill on the horizon. She counted the mounted riders anxiously as they came into view. One horse was riderless and being followed by a horse drawn cart. Her mind instantly came up with two conclusions. Either one was injured or one was dead, and the cart bore his body.

After Kayleigh alerted Lavena, they hurried to the courtyard where a crowd had gathered to welcome the knights. Kayleigh's eyes met Vanora's briefly before looking away. For all she knew it could be Bors' horse that was riderless. She did not tell her or Lavena what she saw. She did not know whose horse it was and there was no need to cause unnecessary worry.

The knights filed in but the loyal squire was nowhere to be seen. "Jols," Lavena sighed bringing her hand to her mouth, eyes brimming with tears.

Arthur dismounted and handed the reins to Kayleigh. "We will be needing your help for some time," he told her. She had no words for him as she thought the worst of Jols' fate. Arthur followed Kayleigh's gaze and approached the young maid. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder, "He will be fine. He was thrown from his horse and only suffers a broken leg."

Lavena, now crying tears of relief, caught him off guard by throwing her arms around him in a grateful hug. Recovering quickly, he patted her back gently before she jumped back, remembering who he was. "I'm sorry, sir. Thank you, sir," she stuttered before retreating in embarrassment.

Dagonet and Bors moved to the cart to assist Jols to the sick bed. He gave out a yelp of pain upon reaching the ground. Tristan led Dagonet's horse, and Kayleigh Bors' and Arthur's horses, with Gawain, Galahad, and Lancelot following behind to the stables.

"What happened to you," Gawain asked, his eyes scanning Kayleigh's form. Her clothes were stained with dirt, grass, and afterbirth.

Kayleigh smiled excitedly, some energy coming back to her, "The mare gave birth."

"Any troubles," Tristan asked.

She grinned at him, her eyes full of pride, "Nothing I couldn't handle by myself. My help decided to faint on me upon seeing the foal's head poke through."

He could not help but smirk at the image that came to his mind. She got no response from Galahad, but Lancelotand Gawain laughed before taking their horses to their respective stalls and settling them. After caring for Dagonet's horse, she returned to Arthur's to groom him. His was truly a magnificent beast. The light that seeped through the windows above made its coat seem to glow as she brushed it.

All the knights had departed except Lancelot, who was tending to a wound on the horse's rear flank. "Is it serious," Kayleigh inquired as she glanced at the knight.

He shook his head in response, "Just a scratch." After taking care of the wound he turned to watch Kayleigh. Though he knew she did not particularly like its owner, she seemed to connect with the horse. She turned feeling his eyes upon her, meeting his gaze. To her surprise he did not turn away at being caught staring at her and she blushed slightly.

"What is his name," she gestured to Lancelot's horse, not able to stand the silence any longer.

"Hadeon," he replied. "It means–"

"Destroyer," Kayleigh finished for him.

He nodded, "My father told me that fallen knights return as great horses. It seemed a fitting name, if that is true."

The legend was famous around Sarmatia. Azamas, the god of death and reviving, reincarnates the warriors' spirits and places them in the body of a horse, Sarmatia's most sacred animal. Because of this, most are not afraid to die, knowing the honor that will be bestowed upon them after death. "You do not believe it to be true," Kayleigh asked, wondering at the stories of his fearless fighting on the battlefield. Where did that courage come from if he believed death was the end?

He only shrugged in reply. "What have you named the foal," he asked instead, changing the subject.

Kayleigh looked at him questioningly, "I did not know I had that honor."

"You did see it safely through birth," he reasoned. "I'm sure Arthur would not mind."

"Well . . . " she started, "I was going to suggest Ozgur."

"Freedom?" he laughed. "How can you call him that when he will be fenced in or under the command of a rider his whole life?"

His tone was sharp and Kayleigh crossed her arms in front of her in defense. "One feels no greater freedom than while doing what it was born to do," she replied.

Lancelot laughed again, "You sound like Arthur. How do you know what its purpose is?" He heard enough talk from Arthur about how everyone was born free. His knights weren't free. Lancelot wasn't free. No, their purpose on earth was to serve Rome, to die for Rome. No doubt Arthur believed his God sent him and his knights to earth just for that purpose, to further his church.

Kayleigh sensed that they weren't talking about the horse anymore. She considered arguing with him for a moment. She did not like being compared to Arthur. What would a Roman have in common with her? She was not sure if they were even human. Yes, they had mouths, ears, eyes, and skin like the rest of them that were 'born to be slaves'. But they breathed an air of superiority unfit for Kayleigh's lungs, listened to angelic music far too elegant for her ear, gazed upon rich art she would never see, and adorned in fabrics her rough skin did not fit in.

Since she had hit a nerve with Lancelot, she held her tongue. Instead, she put the grooming tools away. "I guess I don't," she said quietly before exiting the stables.

Kayleigh stopped by her room to change her clothes before returning to the field to check on the colt. There she found Tristan already examining him.

"He's in good condition. He'll be a fine horse," he said, standing up from his crouched position. The colt wobbled off toward his mother, hungry for another meal.

Those words meant a lot to her and she smiled her thanks to him. She knew it was his way of complimenting her job well done. They exited the field giving the mare her space. Leaning against the fence, they watched as the colt finished eating and lay down to take a nap. Kayleigh's mind wandered back to the night Tristan revealed her origins. "How did you know I was Sarmatian," she asked.

He did not look at her but continued gazing at the foal, "Your sword."

"I could have just bought it from a Sarmatian," she suggested.

"That is not what your reaction revealed," he said turning to face her. She smirked at his comment. "The inscription," he explained, "says 'Maiden of Internal Fire'."

Kayleigh cursed silently to herself as she realized he knew everything. He knew who she was. The thought made her blood run cold. He saw the fear and panic in her eyes and continued before she could act, "I will not reveal your secret."

At this she laughed disbelievingly, "How can I believe you after you revealed to everyone that I'm Sarmatian?" He did not speak and it irked her that he did not try to reassure her into trusting him. "That's fine," she said trying to be nonchalant. "Because I have figured out what you meant when you said we have much in common."

Not a trace of worry crossed his features. But as Kayleigh said the next sentence, he stiffened, and Kayleigh took pleasure in affecting him so. "When searching for my brother, I came across a group of Alans. The Huns had driven their Eastern Sarmatian tribe west, into Roman Territory. One had tattoos as you do, across his cheeks and I asked what they meant." She paused, watching the muscles of his shoulders tense. Knowing that it was difficult to get any response from the man at all, she smiled triumphantly. "You are of royal blood, aren't you Tristan?"

* * *

Oooh, cliffhanger! Review and I won't take a whole week to post another chapter, I promise! 


	15. Where Shadows Fear to Tread

A/N: Yay! 100 reviews! You guys amaze me. Thanks so much! Drinks all around!

dw, Zelinia, Babaksmiles, dferveiro, GlitteryGoil- Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. Sorry about that cliffhanger. Hope you didn't fall off!

Maeghan- I hope I don't disappoint with Tristan's response. This is just how I think he would deal with it.

Alex- Yes, the quote was from AoS. I just loved that line. Serves them right to get cancelled after Maeve left.

Alexandra- Same person as above maybe? Anyway, I'm glad you like the story. I hope being put in the same category with Chosen Path is a good thing. I've just started reading it. Thanks for your compliments.

Dazzeler420- Yes, Tristan was royalty in the legends. His father was a king but died, his mother a queen but also died. So he didn't know his parents. He happened to arrive at his uncle's kingdom (who was also a king) but neither knew Tristan's relation to him. Anyway, I wasn't even thinking of that while I wrote this story. Maybe it was in my subconscious?

Evenstar, katemary- All will be revealed in good time. Tristan's part is in this chapter. Hope you both like it.

Kafan- I also like to hear what people think of about Sarmatia. I haven't found too much on it but I look at similar groups like the Scythians and Thracians. I don't think they would be too much different. But who knows, right?

Mustang Gal- I'm glad the foal part made sense. I'm not sure how long to wait before training it and what exactly comes next. That'll be hard for me. I want to make it realistic (I know a lot of you out there are horseback riders) but I don't really know a thing about horses, unfortunately.

Blarneyrose- I'm glad to see your reviews again. I heard you had a busy few weeks. Best wishes to you and yours. I sure hope I'm getting better and not worse! I have a general idea of where I want it to go action-wise. I've no idea with pairings and love interests. In that sense, I'm just going where it takes me. Any suggestions are welcome.

SupportingU4ever- I never ever thought it would go this far. And to make it all the way to Iraq? I'm not sure if the soldiers are THAT bored to read it. Thanks for being the 100th reviewer! Hugs for you!

* * *

Tristan did not answer Kayleigh's assertion that he was of royal blood, nor did he need to. Everything came together for Kayleigh in that moment. Upon the first sight of him she knew he was from an Alani tribe. His curved sword and sharp features gave it away. After she had heard him speak there was no room for doubt.

She almost felt foolish for not coming to the conclusion that he was a nobleman earlier. He could not be any ordinary man with the grace his stride held. The way he speaks demands attention and respect. He makes his words count and the rarity of them makes them important. When superior officers were around, he did not salute them or shrink in their presence as others might. He raised his chin and looked them in the eyes.

"Don't worry," she said, mocking him, "I will not reveal your secret." She spun on her heel and headed to the tavern for a warm meal.

Kayleigh walked through the streets that were growing dim as dusk set in. A hand reached out and pulled her into the shadows of a side alley. Her back was drawn to the chest of her assailant and held there with an arm around her waist. A knife was pressed into the delicate skin of her neck, stopping her instinct to fight back.

"Don't move or I'll slit your throat," a vaguely familiar voice said.

"Brogan," she spat, registering the voice. "Funny, I thought you would have melted upon seeing the sun again, you cold-hearted bastard." That might not have been the best thing to say in her position but there was no jail keeper here to silence her and she owed him many insults for the ones he had thrown her way. Insults that were readily available at the tip of her tongue.

At her comment he laughed, digging the knife further into her skin, drawing a thin line of crimson across her neck. "It really is a shame you denied me in the prison. I was promised a position of power after ousting the Romans. I would have enjoyed sharing it with you," he said, lightly tracing his blade down her neck, past her collarbone, stopping at the upper hem of her dress. Though it didn't break the skin, she held her breath, waiting in anticipation of what he might do next.

Again, he laughed as he felt her tense under his hold. "You will go along with my plan to break apart the knights' brotherhood or I'll kill you," he threatened. "I will be watching you, as will others. If anybody hears of this, you're a dead woman." Then he pushed her back into the street and disappeared down the blackening alley.

* * *

Tristan was leaning against a pillar in the shadows of the tavern when Kayleigh walked in. She looked disheveled but that did not surprise him considering the conversation they just had. Royalty. The thought of it almost made him laugh. She made it sound so glamorous. He was the nephew of a poor, enslaved tribal chief. There was no gold or rich cloth. They made their living by hunting and paying off the Huns that had invaded their land when he was a child.

His mother had died in childbirth, his father had been slain gloriously in some distant land while under the service of Rome, and his uncle was his only family. His uncle had treated him well, but Tristan grew a hatred for him as the years passed. He did not have the courage to stand against the Hunnish warlords that demanded tribute of them. Even worse, Tristan was assigned to deliver the goods to the warlords' encampment every month. Fortunately, at the age of 13, his will was not as strong as it was now, and his anger at the invading Huns faded. He almost looked up to them for their strength and power in battle. And when he delivered the animal pelts and skins, he delivered them to the high warlord's son, Atanas, and his hawk, whom he both befriended.

Upon every meeting, Atanas, who was ten years his senior, taught him a new skill. It was in this way that Tristan prepared for his service to Rome. He declined every invitation by the warlord and his son to join them in their campaign. Though he did not look up to his uncle, he loved him as his father had, and would not shame him by joining his enemy. Nor would Tristan dishonor his father's memory by backing out of the pact his ancestors made with Rome.

This training continued for nearly five years until one day Atanas' hawk flew to Tristan's arm and refused to leave. Upon delivering that month's tribute, he discovered Atanas had died in battle against the Goths. In less than a year, he was in Briton, awaiting the arrival of the remainder of the knights.

Tristan was drawn from his reverie as Kayleigh walked past his line of view. She sat at the bar and ordered a drink, seemingly unaware of his presence. He sighed, realizing he would need to convince her that he would not reveal her secret in order for her to keep his. Dagonet was the only one that knew his true identity and he trusted that he would keep it confidential.

After drinking heavily of the mug, she threw him a sideways glance. This was not something she wanted to do, especially after having just thrown his words back in his face, but she needed his help. If there was anyone who could get past the eyes of a watchful enemy, it was Tristan.

"Meet me in the stables," she said quietly. Her voice was barely above a whisper but she knew he had ears like a hungry wolf in search of prey, sharpening in on its target. After the tone she had taken with him earlier, she expected him to comply? What kind of game was she playing?

He was about to comment when her hand came up to her neck, tracing the fresh cut with her fingers. She looked down at them and Tristan recognized the wetness as blood. Her eyes darted around nervously, as if looking for something that could not be seen. Something was wrong.

"Make sure nobody sees you," she added before downing the rest of her wine and exiting the area.

Not long after Kayleigh arrived in the stables, Tristan came up to her from the rear of the building. "How did you get in here," she asked him, puzzled.

"Window," he said, pointing behind him. The window at the far end of the stables was a good 20 feet above the floor. She shook her head. She had enough of trying to figure him out today.

"I need you to tell Arthur something for me," she started, getting to the point.

"I am not a messenger," he said, turning to leave.

Kayleigh caught him by the forearm. "Please, Tristan."

The desperateness in her voice stopped him and he turned to face her again. "If you value your commander's life at all, you will hear me," she said, warning in her voice.

"Is that a threat," he asked, his face set in stone.

"Yes," she acknowledged, "but not my own."

"Whose," he questioned.

She told him everything she could think of, down to the smallest details about Brogan and his plan. "You must alert Arthur," she finished.

He nodded in agreement. "Here," he said, reaching into the folds of his jacket and pulling out a dagger. He held it out for Kayleigh to take, who stood eyeing the blade. "Take it," he said, pressing the hilt into the palm of her hand. "Arthur commanded you to keep your weapons in your room. He said nothing against carrying others' weapons." Then he faded into the shadows, off to report to Arthur.

* * *

"WHAT?" Lancelot roared, standing up so quickly, he knocked his chair half way across the room. Arthur had called the knights into counsel after Tristan informed him of the threat.

"Arthur, you cannot be serious. Kayleigh's life is in danger. Just kill Brogan and be done with it," Gawain protested.

Their commander shook his head, "Tristan, she said he was promised a position of power?" Tristan nodded and he continued, "Then he is only a part of our problem. This is much larger than he. We need Kayleigh to find out who leads them."

"To put out a fire, you smother its flames, you do not stand back to ponder what fuels it!" Lancelot declared angrily.

"If you remove the fuel, the fire has nothing left to feed on and will burn itself out. Brogan is but an ember in the wind," Arthur reasoned.

"Embers still burn," Lancelot retorted. He was furious at Arthur's plan to use Kayleigh to get information from the rebel. She did not owe Arthur her life for the few pounds of food and wine she had stolen from the supply ship.

Galahad, Gawain, and Bors sat with confused looks on their faces, now completely lost to what was being said. A moment of tense silence passed before Dagonet turned to Arthur, "You cannot order her to risk her life for Rome's causes. She is not one of your knights, nor is she the Empire's soldier." He looked over at Lancelot, "But if she has the power to save innocent lives and help those she cares for, she has the right to know about it. Let her decide."

Dagonet wanted to protect her more than any of them. She had saved his life, he owed her his. But for the same reason, he knew she was capable of protecting herself. Besides, he did not really expect her to agree to Arthur's reckless plan. Apparently, none of the knights did as they accepted Dagonet's compromise with nods all around.

* * *

Kayleigh rolled over to face the wall for the sixth time. She hadn't gotten a full night's rest in four days. Sighing in frustration, she squeezed her eyes closed. But the more determined she was to sleep, the more evident it became that the endeavor was hopeless. She heard the grinding of metal sliding against metal and light from the hallway flooded in above her head. As soon as it came, it was gone again and Kayleigh felt a presence moving toward her in the dark.

Her breath caught in her throat as she froze, taking up the guise that she was asleep. Her dagger was hidden under the mattress she lay upon and she had foolishly left Tristan's on the desk after she had changed into her night clothes. Surprise was the only advantage she had at this point. She lay still until the air above her stirred as the intruder leaned over her. Whirling around, her fists flew out until they found their target on the other body. As the intruder clattered to the floor, Kayleigh threw her mattress aside, propelling straw into the air. Grabbing her dagger, she spun to face the dark room.

"Who's there," she demanded angrily. The ruby inset as a dragon eye in her dagger seemed to glow an unholy red, slightly illuminating the room. The figure was out of its range and her eyes darted around the room, strained to see in the darkness.

"Fear not," a voice came from the far end of the room.

"Dagonet," she breathed. She lowered her dagger, the light now gone, enveloping the room once again in blackness. "That's a good way to get yourself killed," she said grimly. "Where did you get a key to my room?"

"Arthur gave it to me," he told her, sitting down on the chair at the desk.

"Arthur?"

"Aye, he told us of the threats," he informed her, pulling a strand of straw out from beneath his seat.

The reminder of recent events weighed down upon her and she sat on the floor opposite Dagonet, leaning against the wall. "Did he devise a plan," she questioned hopefully.

She stared into the darkness where his voice came from. Though she could not see him, his heavy sigh did not sound promising. "He wants you to do what Brogan asks."

"What," she asked in utter confusion.

"Arthur is asking you to lead Brogan into believing you are an ally so that he will reveal the details of his plan to you. If we know who is behind the attack we can stop it before anyone gets hurt," he explained.

"He wants me to play both sides," she could not believe what she was hearing.

"Yes," Dagonet confirmed.

"Well," Kayleigh said, "you may tell your commander that my answer is a most definite 'no'."

* * *

Okay all, let me know if you think that was a bit too fast. I'm thinking it is in the beginning. You get hit with so much. Also, let me know what you think the pairings should be. I know, it's already the 15th chapter and nothing, but there's a lot more to come. Next chapter continues the Dag chat and of course, brings more deceit. 


	16. Change of Heart

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and votes on the pairings. You will all just have to read to find out which one I go with. :evil laugh:

Evenstar- Brogan will only get worse. I won't say if a beating is in store for him.

SpectralLady- Glad you liked the fire metaphor. It was quite entertaining to write.

Urhallucinating- It's nice to hear from someone new. I don't know about another girl, Kayleigh seems to get in enough trouble on her own. Thanks for reviewing.

Babaksmiles- The link in your review didn't post. Maybe you can email it to me. My email is in my profile. I think you and I are in the same frame of mind when it comes to pairings. I've been jumping back between the two options while the story develops. Not sure still.

KAfan- Interesting about your daughter. I'm glad you liked the idea. I've had it in my head for the longest time that Tristan has that sort of quality to him. My email address is in my profile if you want to discuss it, or anything else for that matter. Your vote for Tristan did not surprise me. :-)

Cardeia- Glad you found my story and are enjoying it. I'm so happy you appreciate the history that I tried to add in and that it gave the effect I was going for. I have been trying to keep everyone in character. Thank you for your review.

Zelinia- More of Brogan coming your way presently, read on.

Juju- Sorry I'm bursting your bubble with the pairings this chapter. I hope you continue to read anyway.

Mustang Gal- I never even thought to have Arthur doubt Kayleigh's accusations toward Brogan. I suppose since he's already been in prison, I figured his character already had a dark spot on it. I hope you find this chapter amusing.

* * *

Kayleigh thought she heard a sigh of relief come from Dagonet. She smiled at the dark realizing that he was worried she would choose to go along with Arthur's plan. He wanted to protect her. "Sorry about your mattress. We will mend it in the morning," Dagonet apologized. 

"No, I was the one that destroyed it, I will fix it," she replied.

He shook his head at her refusal for help but said nothing. She had been on her own for so long and so used to relying only on herself. It would take time for her to realize there were people around her who cared and would readily help her if asked. The chair creaked as Dagonet stood, "Come."

Kayleigh rose from the floor, "Where are we going?"

"To my quarters. You may use my mattress to get some sleep," he offered. Though she tried to hide her exhaustion through activity, her eyes were red and her step heavy.

"That's not necessary. I could not sleep anyway," she rationalized.

"That is because you are frightened," Dagonet answered.

"You would be too if you had men sneaking around in your room in the middle of the night," she defended herself. She was not some scared child afraid of the dark.

He sighed. She was stubborn but he would not back down. "You know he is still out there," Dagonet said, not needing to elaborate on who 'he' is. "Stay in my room tonight, where it is safe. Arthur will deal with him in the morning and then you may refuse to accept help again."

"Lead the way," she said in resignation. They crept out into the hallway, and just as she did when Jols led her to her room, she counted the steps and noted the turns. She now had most of the fort and village surrounding it mapped out in her mind, the knights' corridor the most recent to be engraved in her memory.

Dagonet's room was much larger than hers. A fire burning in the fireplace lit the room brightly. There was nothing extravagant about his room. It was simple and practical. Weapons hung neatly from the wall next to his bed, a side table underneath them. Two large windows took up the opposite wall above two chests for belongings. He closed the door behind him, "Do not worry, I am a gentleman, I will sleep on the floor." Breezing past her, he took the blanket from his bed and dropped it on a plain rug before the fireplace to make his temporary bed.

"I know," she said in a quiet voice. She trusted him but memories of another time came flooding into her mind and she clung to the blanket she had wrapped around her for decency's sake.

Her feet seemed to be planted on that spot for she did not move for several minutes. Dagonet went to her side, fearing that she might soon sprout leaves, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She struggled not to withdraw from his touch. She had already offended Galahad by doing so. "I will not let anything happen to you," Dagonet reassured her gently. "Get some rest."

His words gave her comfort and she relaxed. The bed was made of a different material than hers and she sank down into it, relishing the softness. She struggled with unwrapping the blanket from her body while still keeping her modesty. Dagonet helped straighten it out and tucked it lightly under her chin. Smiling, Kayleigh said, "You remind me of my brother."

"How is that," he asked, taking his spot on the rug and lying down. He turned on his side to face her as she spoke.

Her hands cradled her head as she lay staring at the ceiling, her eyes in a different place and time. "A brave warrior, rough on the outside but soft on the inside," she replied. "Over protective," she added turning her head to shoot him an accusing glance.

"Sounds like a great man," Dagonet said with a smile.

Kayleigh rolled her eyes in response. "Did you have any siblings?" she inquired.

"Yes, I was the oldest of many."

"Was?"

He shrugged, "I do not know what has become of them now. My four brothers are probably in service to Rome and my sisters married off. That is a different life than this one."

She nodded her understanding. It seemed so long ago that her family lived together happily. "Now you have five other mischievous brothers you must keep out of trouble," she said lightly, in need of interrupting sad reflections of a joyful childhood long gone.

"Aye," he agreed, chuckling softly.

"Will you go back to Sarmatia when you receive your discharge papers," Kayleigh wondered.

"No," he answered. "Bors has it in his mind that we kidnap Vanora and the children and form our own Sarmatian village here in Britain." Kayleigh laughed. She saw the wisdom of staying in Britain and not traveling back to their homeland. It would be a nightmare to drag eleven children across a sea and a continent.

"Will you go back home when your debt to Arthur is paid," he asked.

"Home?" she let out a bitter laugh. "I have not had a home for 15 years. The Romans took that away from me."

Dagonet could relate. "Where will you go then?"

Kayleigh thought for a moment. Where did she have to go to? "I don't know," she answered finally.

"Then perhaps you will find a reason to stay," Dagonet suggested.

"Perhaps," she said drowsily before drifting into sleep.

* * *

Kayleigh awoke early the next morning to check on the foal. She left Dagonet sleeping on the rug in front of the cold fireplace. She draped her blanket over him before returning to her room to change clothes and arm herself with Tristan's blade. Outside, it was still dark but the lightening skies provided her with enough light to examine the foal. The newborn horse was resting quietly with its mother. It looked to be healthy so Kayleigh left them to bond. 

Deciding to enjoy the fresh morning air, she strolled along the fields until she came upon the fort's cemetery. Some of the burial mounds were marked by Christian crosses but the mounds adorned in traditional Sarmatian style, with swords embedded in the ground, greatly outnumbered them. The thought of so many of her own people dying for something they didn't believe in angered her. She kneeled down in front of a grave, sitting back on her heels. The grass on this grave was shorter than the rest. It was not as old as the others.

The sword embedded in the soft dirt had a jagged edge, evidence of many harsh battles it had seen. Kayleigh brushed a finger across the hilt. The leather binding was worn and faded but still displayed the hilt as strong and sturdy. Tied to it was a piece of rawhide that flapped in the wind, presumably part of the knight's attire. It was amazing what one could determine of someone that no longer existed by looking at what they left behind.

She looked up at the sky that was now coloring the clouds with shades of purple, red, and orange. Her eyes scanned the horizon and came upon a line of trees in the distance. It was where the dreadful Woads that she had heard so much of hid. The same kind that had killed many of those who resided under her feet. It all seemed so unfair, dying by the hand of an enemy that was not their own. But Kayleigh had accepted war as a part of her life long ago. No matter where she went she saw war, blood, slavery, and greed. Would she ever find peace?

Then she realized that she had. Talking to Dagonet into the wee hours of the morning had calmed her and her soul was more tranquil than she ever remembered it being. As she looked back on her time with the knights, she found herself smiling. She was quite fond of all of them, maybe with the exception of Tristan for obvious reasons. She had even taken to Lancelot after getting past the defensiveness in which he spoke of his commander that annoyed her so. Did she really want to leave that behind when her debt to Arthur was paid?

"What are you doing out here Kayleigh," it was Gawain who interrupted her thoughts.

"Just thinking," she replied quietly.

"You shouldn't be out here. It's not safe," Gawain said.

Kayleigh shook her head, "Don't worry, I have this." And she pulled Tristan's dagger from her cloak.

He stared at it in disbelief, "He gave you his dagger?"

"Yes," she answered.

"He never lets anyone handle his weapons," he informed her. She recalled Tristan saying that he was the only one that cared for his horse.

"Doesn't like to share?"

"Apparently he does with you," Gawain said, sitting down at the grave next to her.

"He was a brave warrior," she said of the knight whose grave they sat beside. Gawain nodded.

"Why are you here so early," she inquired after a moment of silence.

"To see to my brother's resting place," he replied, moving to a grave further down the hill.

Kayleigh followed and watched as he withdrew a cloth from his jacket pocket and wiped the dirt and moisture from the armor that was placed atop the mound. "He hated polishing his armor and weapons," Gawain said in a far away voice. "Said it was a woman's job to clean and a man's job to kill." He smiled to himself at the thought of it. "The scales would get so caked with dirt and blood that he could barely move."

"What is his name," Kayleigh asked. The dead were never truly gone so long as those who loved them lived and shared their memories with others.

"Coyie," he answered. "He and Galahad were great friends. They were about the same age. We both took it hard when he fell. But that was many years ago." Having finished his cleaning, he turned back to Kayleigh, "Come. I must get you back to Dagonet before he turns the whole fort upside down looking for you."

"You can tell him I'm fine. I don't need a keeper," she said.

"Where are you going?" he asked at her departing back.

"You're not the only one that has duties to attend to," she told him as she walked off. She rambled down the hill to the tree line where she found elder trees and picked their berries. Their flowers where now in full bloom, signaling the passage of summer. Lifting the hem of her skirt, she filled the makeshift basket full of the ripened fruit and made her way to the fort's kitchen to juice them. There, Lavena was washing dishes from the morning's meal. "How is Jols?" Kayleigh inquired.

"He will survive. The bone did not fully break and he will be back on his feet in a few weeks," Lavena smiled tiredly.

Kayleigh imagined she sat with Jols through the night, keeping vigil. She wanted desperately to tell the maid of Brogan and the threats. Doubt had crept into her mind recently on whether she had made the right choice. At the moment, she would willingly listen to advice. Kayleigh kept silent as she mixed the juice with the other ingredients she gathered in a large pot over the hearth.

"Something smells good," Lancelot commented as he and Bors came upon the passageway to the kitchen. Taking a side trip from wherever they were going, they entered. "You cook Kayleigh?"

"Mmm hmm," she answered while stirring the concoction with a wooden spoon.

"No better way to win a man's heart," Lancelot said, giving her a charming smile which she raised an eyebrow at. He took the spoon from her.

"What is it," Bors asked curiously as Lancelot tasted the mixture.

"Horse mush," Kayleigh replied at which Lancelot sputtered his mouthful across the floor. Bors roared in laughter and Lavena tried to hide her giggles behind a jug she was washing. Even Kayleigh cracked a smile at his disgusted expression.

Bors slapped him on the back as he choke up some remaining mush. "It's just oats, grain, and water. Same food people eat," he said before shoveling a spoonful in his mouth.

"And laxatives in the form of elder tree berries," Kayleigh added in amusement. It was Lancelot's turn to laugh as Bors rushed to the sink where he emptied the contents of his mouth.

After they had both rinsed their mouths, Lancelot informed her that they were headed to the Roundtable. "We will discuss what to do with..." he glanced at Lavena before continuing in a quieter voice, "... your current situation. Dagonet told us your answer. We stand behind you in your decision and will not allow any harm to come to you."

She smiled but shook her head, "I do not need protectors." She took the pot from the fire and turned to leave.

"Where are you going," he asked. She looked down at the horse food and back up at him wondering if she even needed to answer such a dumb question. "But he's still–"

"I can take care of myself," she cut him off sharply.

* * *

Kayleigh decided to return to her room to salvage what was left of her mattress and buy supplies to mend it if need be. Fury had gobbled up her warm meal and settled with the colt for a nap. She now walked down the road weaving through the crowds of people who hurried to finish their chores before the sunset. She was pulled aside into a dark building, the door closing behind her. Before her eyes could adjust, she knew who it was. Spinning from his grasp, she pulled Tristan's dagger on him. 

Brogan let out a crazed laugh, "What are you going to do, kill me?"

"And what if I do?" she asked him menacingly.

"You will be sent back to Rome, tried, and executed for the murder of a soldier," he told her. "And Arthur couldn't save you again even if he wanted to."

He was right. Kayleigh knew if there was one thing the Romans excelled at, it was enforcing discipline. She had no proof of his plans or knowledge of whom his allies are. It would be his word against hers. Even worse, if she was connected to the chaos she had created before leaving Rome, she would surely be facing death. She lowered her weapon and he took the opportunity to grasp her by the throat and throw her against the wall, holding her there.

"On the other hand, if I killed you," he pressed his fingers deep into her neck, cutting off her air flow, "I would only be killing a thief. Nobody cares about you. If you suddenly disappeared, nobody but your bed mates would miss you, and even then only until they found another whore to take your place."

His degrading stare bore into her but it was not met with the fear that he sought to find in her eyes. Instead, there was anger and defiance. When her vision started to fade, he released her and she leaned against the wall, choking and gasping for air, trying desperately not to collapse to Brogan's feet. She would rather thrust Tristan's dagger into her chest than wallow before him.

If the door hadn't flung open then, light blinding Kayleigh, she would have buried the blade in Brogan instead. It was only the voice from the door that saved her from dangerous waves of rage that usually made her spiral out of control. "What's going on in here," the man demanded. He assessed the scene quickly as Kayleigh and Brogan's eyes adjusted to the invading light.

Brogan recovered quickly from the shock of being interrupted. "Just getting acquainted with the lady," he replied, shooting Kayleigh a threatening glance. She did not speak and recognized the newcomer as the officer she had met for her laundering duties.

"I see," Tiberius said, noticing the skin on Kayleigh's neck darkening with bruises. "Brogan, I believe you have duties to attend to. Or shall we throw you back in prison for insubordination?"

"No, sir," he answered with a scowl before exiting.

He turned to Kayleigh, his stern face softening momentarily, "I don't believe it would be good for an accused thief to be caught in a storeroom. You should be going before someone sees you, lady." He moved to hold the door open for her. She gave him a skeptical look before hurrying away.

* * *

The knights were startled to their feet as the door burst open and Kayleigh entered the room. Dagonet was at her side in a flash, followed closely by Lancelot and Arthur. "What's wrong?" he asked her. 

"Brogan," Tristan said for her as she tried to catch her breath. He eyed her throat where her bruises were barely visible through strategically placed strands of hair place there to purposely hide the marks.

Lancelot saw his gaze and moved a finger to her neck to brush back her hair. The feeling of his rough fingers on her skin sent chills down her spine, causing her hair to stand on end. She pulled away from him and turned to Arthur, "I will go along with your plan to discover his allies."


	17. Challenges

Wow, you guys are getting good at reviewing. Makes me want to write more often! So, here you are, Chapter 17.

Babaksmiles- I'm still waiting for that link. I'm glad you like Kayleigh's independence. I'm trying not to make her to tough because otherwise, she wouldn't be human, would she?

Evenstar- I thought about letting Kayleigh cut off Brogan's left buddy down south but then he'd probably just kill her and I wouldn't have a story to write.

Blarneyrose- I'm so glad you think I'm getting better. But from where I was, there's only up, right? I like your idea about the maid but the feminization thing might be hard work, as much as I'd like to see it happen.

Rayn, a, pizza, and juju- I STILL haven't decided on pairings so we will all just have to see where it leads. I am leaning towards a few different possibilities but lets not limit ourselves to just one!

SpectralLady, Cardeia, and Zelinia- I really loved writing that part about the mush. I was even laughing through writing it. I'm glad you thought it was funny too! I'm glad I wrote it with some sense of realism to it also. I don't have a horse, don't know a thing about them, so it was really nice to hear that from you all (and that it actually has happened in reality).

Cardeia- Dag is an interesting character, isn't he? I just write him as I imagine him after seeing him in the tiny, tiny snippets we get of him in the movie. He's like a big brother, strong, reliable, loyal, protective, caring. I had heard that Dagonet was a jester in the legends. Could you imagine our 2004 King Arthur Dagonet as a jester? I'm getting a picture of Ray in a jester's costume, complete with bells on his curled shoes in my mind... hilarious!

KAfan- I'm happy to make your day a little better with this entertainment. Your story does the same for me! No, you can't change your vote to Lancelot. You'll just crush Tristan's ego. Don't worry, I'll take care of him for you.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this," Lancelot asked for the hundredth time. He had tried talking her out of it upon her announcement that she had changed her mind about Brogan. Dagonet had remained silent. He understood why she was doing it. Though he knew she could defend herself in a fight, he was not pleased with her decision. Nonetheless, he had stood by her side, offering his support with a nod. 

"I'm sure," she said, rolling her eyes at Lancelot's persistent questioning. "I want Brogan to pay for this," she spat, rubbing her bruised neck lightly. They had spent the good part of the day devising a week's worth of arguments between the knights that Kayleigh could initiate. She wished it could be over sooner but one big fight would be too dramatic and cause suspicion. She had to convince Brogan somehow that she was an ally and could be trusted with the schemes of those he supports.

Tristan looked at her beneath his jagged bangs. In her eyes he saw a different reason for her actions, though he wasn't sure it was a good idea. She wanted revenge. He didn't think her capable of keeping her emotions in check while Brogan taunted her. She is too impulsive and proud to take the insults without striking back with weapon or tongue.

Tristan refused to be part of the scenes. He did not pretend. Instead, Arthur assigned him the duty of discovering those who spy on Kayleigh. He could not turn down the challenge to out-scout the opposing side. If he could find them out, they would lead him to their superiors when they reported their findings. Then this foolish scheme of shams could be abandoned. They could resume their roles are honorable knights and slaughter the enemy instead of hiding behind a girl and a curtain of deception and trickery.

Tomorrow was the start of it all and they all departed the Roundtable to prepare individually. Arthur had permitted Kayleigh to carry her own weapons but warned her against using them on Brogan before the necessary information was gathered. Kayleigh watched as Lancelot left the room first, storming out like a hot wind in the dead of summer.

"Arthur," she called to him before he left the room. She waited until they were alone in the room before approaching him. "Here," she said, pressing a leather pouch into his hand.

"What is this," he asked, opening the pouch to discover it full of golden coins.

"It is payment for the damages done by Fury in the marketplace. My tribe thought it disgraceful to sell gifts given to them but it is even more disgraceful to make the knights suffer for my mistake," she explained. "Get them what they need."

Judging by the weight of the pouch, Arthur figured it was more than enough to pay off the angry merchants. He wondered what lavish gifts she had been given and for what purpose. She exited the room after receiving a brief nod from Arthur.

In the hallway, Tristan was waiting for her. "Hello, shadow," she greeted him. "A little anxious to start your stalking role, aren't you?" She walked past him, not waiting for the shrug he gave as an answer. He caught up to her with long strides and walked beside her down the hall.

"How can you be sure they aren't watching now," he asked. Just because Arthur's plan wasn't being played out until tomorrow didn't mean that the enemy would wait as long.

"Because I can feel when even you are watching me, and you're supposed to be the one to go undetected." She was always aware of her surroundings. It was a defense mechanism that her brother had instilled in her. She thought the role Arthur gave Tristan was quite unnecessary.

"Kayleigh," he said, bidding her to look at him. It was the first time he had spoken her name to her, and Kayleigh thought it sounded even more beautiful with his accented voice. The newfound warm feeling she experienced was replaced with one of burning anger as he said his next words. "You are no match for Brogan. He will defeat you."

She stopped in her tracks and turned on him, sparks in her eyes, "No. I will not let that happen." She spun on her heel, chastising herself silently for letting her defenses falter at the sound of him speaking her name.

He shook his head at her and followed as she entered her room. She tried to slam the door behind her but Tristan blocked it with his foot, stepped aside her into her room, and closed the door behind him. Kayleigh handed him his dagger back, "That is what you wanted, now get out." How dare he come into her room uninvited after insulting her. When he didn't move, she grabbed her sword and pointed it threateningly at him. "I said get out," she yelled.

Tristan looked down her sword at her, "This is why they call you 'Maiden of Internal Fire.' You cannot control your anger. You cannot hide it on your face, in your eyes, or in your actions. This is how Brogan will discover your true intentions."

Seeing the reasoning in his words, she slowly lowered the weapon. She thought she was fairly good at hiding her feelings except when dishonored and disrespected. "I'm not like you. I have emotions," she admitted. Tristan rose an eyebrow at her comment and she couldn't tell if he took it as an insult or compliment. Truth be told, she didn't care.

She sheathed her sword and looked about the room. The disaster resembled her life and she was unwilling to deal with it right now. The confinement of the walls suddenly seemed to be choking her. She needed to get out. After strapping the sheath of her short sword to the outside of her right thigh and hiding her dagger in her left boot, she breezed passed Tristan, heading toward the training grounds. Once again, he followed after her and she prayed to all the gods she knew that his destination happened to be in the same direction as hers. He was easily getting on her nerves.

Coming to the fence of the enclosed training space, she turned only to see Tristan disappear into the stables. Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned to watch the men that were practicing their swordplay there. She joined Bors sitting on the fence watching as Lancelot and Galahad sparred with wooden weapons. Galahad was doing well at holding his own against the two sworded warrior but he lacked that move that would grant him victory.

It had been a long time since she had been able to practice her moves and she couldn't resist the challenge any longer. Jumping from the fence, she picked up a wooden sword from the ground and approached the two men. "Mind if I cut in?" she asked Galahad.

He shrugged, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He still wasn't talking to her she noticed. "I'll try to take it easy on you," Lancelot offered with a charming smile.

"I was just going to say the same thing to you," Kayleigh quipped, at which Lancelot chuckled and readied himself for the skirmish. "After all, I wouldn't want to ruin your pretty-boy face."

"I wouldn't worry about that," he said while blocking her first blow. "You should worry more about ruining your outfit when I have you pinned in the dirt."

She laughed as she dodged a swipe aimed at gutting her. "For some reason I wouldn't put it below you to roll around with a woman in the mud."

Bors was laughing on the sideline, quite amused with their banter. Remembering her audience, she got back to the business at hand. She faked a lunge to the right but stopped short and sliced at Lancelot's left shoulder. He gave her a small smirk as he tossed that sword away and put his arm behind his back, leaving only one more sword to disarm him. "This is how you beat a man like Lancelot," she told Galahad without sparing a glance in his direction. She brought her foot up to Lancelot's inner elbow, kicking his right arm. Pain shot down his arm to his hand like lightning, causing him to drop the sword.

"What the hell was that?" he asked in disbelief, grasping his elbow protectively into his body.

She only grinned as Bors exploded in laughter. "Do you yield?" she asked him, bringing the wooden sword to his chest.

"To you?" he asked with a mischievous grin. "Never!" He swept his foot behind hers causing her to fall on her back, dropping her sword in the process. He leaned down over her, giving her a triumphant grin. "But someday you will yield to me," he asserted confidently and planted a kiss square on her lips.

It wasn't forceful as many of the kisses Kayleigh had received in her life were, but it wasn't sweet either. She didn't know what to think of it and could only give him a dazed stare as he pulled back. She was jolted back to her surroundings as Bors laughed loudly at the scene. Kayleigh pushed Lancelot aside and stood, "Don't hold your breath for that day." He gave her a mock frown.

The sound of a horse's neigh caught Kayleigh's ear and she turned to see Tristan mounted on his horse on the opposite side of the field. He had come out to practice shooting arrows at a target while in full gallop but stopped to watch Kayleigh and Lancelot when Bors' loud laughter frightened his horse. Tristan was as stoic as ever, not even a hint of amusement showing in his eyes.

She was sick of his impassive face and empty eyes watching her. "Do you even have the capability for emotion? Do you experience pain or pleasure?" she asked as she approached him. Lancelot, Bors, and Galahad watched on curiously.

Tristan didn't answer. Instead, he whistled for his bird which swooped down and landed on his outstretched arm. He ruffled her feathers gently with his fingers.

It was obvious to Kayleigh that he cared for the animal and she found that as an opportunity to get a rise from him. "I like birds," Kayleigh commented, "if they are properly cooked."

He looked at her, anger evident in his eyes. Aside from his horse, the hawk was his closest companion. "Your bird there is a bit too raw for my tastes," she added. The bird screeched at her before taking flight as if it knew what Kayleigh was saying.

A triumphant smile appeared on Kayleigh's face as she saw Tristan's composure slipping. She was relieved to find there was still life behind his stone face when others would have been frightened. "Fight me and I will show you either pain or pleasure," she challenged. By now the others had come closer, Bors and Galahad to get a better view of the entertainment, and Lancelot to keep an eye on Tristan. "Pain on your defeat," she said, drawing her lightning sword from her thigh.

Tristan dismounted, drawing his blade from its sheath. "And pleasure," he asked raising an eyebrow.

Kayleigh gave him a cocky smile, "You need not worry about that. You will not win."

Bors laughed, "I think you ego transferred to her, Lancelot."

She stood, sword alert for Tristan to signal that he was ready. He did so with a nod, tapping her blade with his scimitar. Kayleigh pushed it out of the way and swung horizontally at Tristan, who knocked it aside and thrust his blade at her. She side stepped it and brought her sword down upon it, trapping it against the ground. She turned to bring her elbow to his face but he ducked, pulling his sword free. Tristan slashed across her mid-section, catching the threads of her tunic as she jumped back out of the way.

"Tristan!" Lancelot exclaimed, a warning in his voice. This 'practice session' had turned very serious. They weren't using wooden swords and their moves were meant to kill, not to disarm.

Kayleigh looked down at her torn shirt, surveying the damage. "I'm fine," she threw over her shoulder at Lancelot. She lifted the sword at the patiently waiting Tristan, determined to continue the duel. He blocked a swing aimed for his head before moving aside to avoid being skewered in the chest. She was striking almost as fast as Tristan could dodge the attacks. He was growing tired of her game. On the next thrust he ducked down and grabbed her wrist. Standing up, he twisted her arm behind her back, causing her to drop the sword.

He was not expecting her other fist to swing around her body and he was not able to react in time. It made full contact with his chin with a loud crack. He caught her wrist before she could hit him again and stood behind her holding her arms behind her back. Kayleigh's heel lifted, intending to kick him in the groin but his knees came together, trapping her foot.

Tristan bent his knees abruptly, causing her legs to buckle underneath her. She crashed to the ground face down, Tristan following her, his hands still gripping her wrists. Balancing himself on one knee, he placed the other in the small of her back to keep her from moving.

Bors burst into laughter upon seeing Kayleigh's expression which was mixed with surprise and anger at being defeated. Lancelot squinted at Tristan, his hand itching for the hilt of his sword. He did not want to bruise Kayleigh's ego any more for the day by coming to her rescue, but if Tristan hurt her, he would have to face Lancelot's rage.

Kayleigh flailed about helplessly on the ground. Tristan twisted her arm further until she lay still, giving up an attempt to turn the tables. She cried out as the muscles in her shoulder strained to keep her arm attached to her body. She felt Tristan lean down, one of his braids falling across her cheek. Everything in that moment came into focus for her. Her surroundings became suddenly sharper as her senses went into overdrive. She spotted a fawn in the tree line across the meadow and could count the hairs on its back. She could hear the air flowing through the feathers of the bird as it flew through the heavens above. A breeze from the east brought a smell of mountain pansies, a scent she had never picked up on before.

Tristan leaned in closer, his lips almost against her ear. "There's a fine line between pain and pleasure," he whispered so the others could not hear. His hot breath across the back of her neck made her hair stand on end. In a moment the weight of his knee on her back was gone, as was the otherworldly perceptual enhancements, and her wrists released. She stood, whirling around to face him, but he was already on his horse riding away.

* * *

My goodness, it's getting long. How long do you suppose it will get before you all get bored with it? 


	18. Day Off

Thank you all for the reviews. I've had a terrible week so that is why it has taken me so long to get this chapter up. If it sucks, I'm sorry. I wasn't really in the mood to write it. I'm glad you all liked the Kayleigh/Tristan scene. I wrote it a long time ago and is one of the reasons I started writing this fic, just so I could put it in there. **KAfan**, she might grant a little pleasure later, but she might give it to him in the form of pain since he relates the two so closely. **Zelinia**, I don't know how much Kayleigh's family will come into play in the story. We will hear more about her brother towards the end though, whenever that is. **June**, sorry I didn't get to reading your fic yet. As I said, tough week. I'll put it on my to do list. **WildGoalie06**, if those donut are the cake kind with cherry frosting, you've got yourself a deal! **Evenstar**, I'm not sure about the nookie thing, she's got her sights set on other goals, like staying alive and gaining her freedom. But some sexual tension for sure. **dmitchell**, thanks for your comments, they prompted me to post this next chapter. I hope you all like it.

* * *

"Are you alright?" Dagonet asked as he approached Kayleigh. He had only seen the tail end of the fight and knew it to be more than a training session. He would need to speak to Tristan later about the tensions between him and Kayleigh. If their mission was to succeed, Kayleigh and Tristan would need to work closely together. 

"Yes..." Kayleigh replied, a bit dazed. She wasn't angry but confused. "_There is a fine line between pain and pleasure_," Tristan's words echoed in her head. What does that mean? She shrugged at her own question. _Only a demented mind could come up with such an absurd comment_, she concluded. When it came to Tristan, it was easier to assume than understand. She tried to push the questions about him from her head, which proved to be a much harder task than anticipated.

Glancing at the tree line across the field, she was almost disappointed that she could not spy the fawn again. Her enhanced senses, though overpowering at first, had given her a rush of excitement even while she was face first in the dirt. _What happened to me_, she wondered. _Why?_

"What did he do to her," Dagonet asked, looking her over for injuries. Galahad shrugged.

"What's she lookin' at," Bors wondered, following her eyes to the tree line but seeing nothing. Kayleigh continued to stare ahead, lost in thought, as Lancelot waved a hand in front of her face.

"Maybe you should kiss her again," Bors suggested with a grin.

Dagonet shot Lancelot a glare, who could only shrug helplessly, "I couldn't resist."

"You really have no self control, do you?" Dagonet asked annoyed.

"Probably gave her one of his diseases," Galahad muttered under his breath.

Lancelot turned back to Kayleigh, snapping his fingers by her ear, "Hello?"

"Huh? What?" She startled, having finally made it out of the maze that was her mind.

"Welcome back," Lancelot said with a grin.

"What?" Kayleigh asked, even more confused than before.

"Maybe you should get some rest," Dagonet suggested, looking upon her perplexed face with worry.

"I'll escort her to her room," Lancelot offered, putting an arm around her shoulders and turning her towards her quarters.

"No," Kayleigh, Bors, and Dagonet all said at the same time.

"What?" Lancelot asked, putting on an innocent face.

Kayleigh removed Lancelot's hand from her shoulder, "I thank you for your concern, as I'm sure you had the purist intentions, but I have things I need to do."

"Kayleigh..." Dagonet started.

"Dagonet," she gave him a sincere smile, "I am fine. Promise."

He nodded, "Join me in the dinning hall for dinner?"

"It would be my pleasure," she accepted.

Lancelot looked on in disbelief. "What about me?" he asked as Kayleigh hurried away towards the grazing fields. Dagonet cuffed him on his head for her before going in search of Tristan.

* * *

Kayleigh saw a figure at the fence as she approached and soon discovered it belonged to Lavena. Remembering this was the maid's day off, she joined her in looking at the colt and his mother. "Do you want children?" Lavena asked suddenly. 

Kayleigh was startled by the blunt question. She thought for a moment and shrugged. "I cannot see myself with children."

"Why not?" Lavena asked. "It is the greatest role a woman could have."

But Kayleigh didn't see herself as a woman. She had been given many titles... pagan, barbarian, animal... but never woman. Now that she thought of it, never even human. "I do not possess the love or patience for them," she reasoned. They stood silent for a moment before Kayleigh tugged on Lavena's dress sleeve, "Come." Lavena gave her a questioning look as she ducked between the fence posts and entered the field. "Come on!"

The maid reluctantly followed. She didn't mind watching from afar. Once she cleared the fence, Kayleigh took her by the arm and led her to were the young colt stood watching them curiously. Kayleigh knelt down beside the animal and wrapped her arms around its neck and under its rear end. "He needs to get used to human contact," she explained to the apprehensive woman. "Go ahead, pet him." Lavena lightly traced her hand down its back, afraid to hurt it. "Good," Kayleigh assured her, to which she continued to pet the colt more confidently.

Kayleigh released the foal but it stayed in place thoroughly enjoying the treatment it was getting from Lavena. It flipped its tail happily and turned to nudge the maid who fell backwards and giggled as her affections were returned. Kayleigh helped her up, smiling at the girl's happiness. This is what she deserved and Kayleigh vowed to give her more days like these. Grabbing a brush from the sack of supplies she had left on the field, she led Lavena to Fury's side. Kayleigh handed Lavena the brush and gestured to the horse.

"Oh no, no, no. That one's a lot bigger," Lavena cried backing away from the beast. She had never been this close to a horse, let alone touch one.

"It's okay," Kayleigh said, dragging her friend to Fury's side and guiding Lavena's hand with the brush against the horse's hide. "See, it's easy." The maid nodded but as soon as Kayleigh let go of Lavena's hand she backed away. Kayleigh laughed, taking the brush from her and continuing the task. "Do you have a sewing set I could borrow?" she asked when she was finished. She didn't dare venture into the marketplace after the havoc Fury had wrecked that afternoon so long ago.

"It's my day off," Lavena stated.

"I know, but I'm not asking Lavena the Maid. I'm asking Lavena my friend."

"Oh," Lavena said, almost surprised. "Well, in that case, follow me." After retrieving the supplies, they entered Kayleigh's room. "Burn my eyes, your room is worse than the knights' after a drunken two-person party!" Kayleigh laughed, liking the way Lavena referred to the nights the men took a woman to bed for a meaningless toss.

They set to work stuffing and mending the overturned mattress talking of the colt and the plans Kayleigh had for its upraising. Setting the mattress back on the frame, Kayleigh thanked Lavena for her help and invited her to come to the stables on her next day off. Lavena accepted and ducked out of the room to check on Jols.

* * *

After cleaning herself as best she could with the water from the wash basin, Kayleigh changed out of her muddy clothes and headed to the dinner hall. She made her way to a table in a dark corner where Dagonet sat sipping a mug of ale. He stood acknowledging her presence and sat down with her. They ordered dinner and a drink for Kayleigh from a passing maid. 

Dagonet sat forward in his chair, leaning his arms against the table, speaking in a hush voice. "I asked you here to address the tensions between you and Tristan," he said, skipping idle chatter and getting to the point.

Kayleigh gave him a frown, "Oh, and I thought you just enjoyed my presence."

"I do," he reassured her. "But this concerns me." She sighed, leaning against the back of her chair. "That is why I asked Tristan to join us," he said, and right on cue, Tristan entered the dining hall.

Kayleigh groaned as Tristan joined them at the table. He was expressionless, not at all surprised to see Kayleigh there. He had agreed to meet them there. She shot Dagonet a glance, feeling slightly betrayed that he had spoken to Tristan about her. Her eyes darted from one man to the other, and sensing a bombardment of what she perceived as criticism, crossed her arms before her in resistance.

Dagonet noticed her change as she withdrew internally and fortified her defenses. He looked to Tristan for help, who was staring coldly at Kayleigh. He sighed and turned back to her, "I don't know what happened between you two but you must reconcile before this gets out of hand."

Kayleigh snorted, "I will not believe that. I'm sure Tristan has already told you that I'm the daughter of the leader of the Exiles. He has probably told the whole fort by now."

"No," Tristan spoke for the first time, amusement lining his voice, "but you just did."

"You should understand Tristan better than any of us then," Dagonet said, leading on that he knew who Tristan's kin were.

"That doesn't make us alike," Kayleigh replied. "There is nobody left of my tribe to lead, all slaughtered by the hand of Rome."

"The people of my tribe are not my own, but my uncle's. I do not wish to take his place," Tristan revealed. "I have kept my word at keeping your secrets."

"Nor have I spoken yours," Kayleigh said, reluctantly putting his mind at ease.

"Then what was that fight about today," Dagonet questioned, watching as the two engaged in a silent staring contest.

Knowing she couldn't win, she turned to Dagonet, "He doesn't trust my abilities. I find that offensive."

"Why do you care what I think?" Tristan asked as the maid brought their food and drinks. Kayleigh took a sip of her watered down wine. She was glad for the distraction for she didn't know the answer to his question. Seeing that she was ignoring the question Tristan commented, "You let others influence you too much. You know what you believe, what others think will not change it."

Kayleigh shrugged, swallowing a bite of food. "I happen to like enlightening them to my opinion."

"That's what gets you into trouble, Kayleigh," Dagonet replied with a smile. "You need not be afraid of Tristan revealing your secrets. He has kept his own for fifteen years and is a man of his word. You can trust him."

She was skeptical but trusted Dagonet. He had known Tristan (as much as one can) for much longer than she. Nodding, she decided to give Tristan the benefit of the doubt in the future.

Dagonet then addressed Tristan, "She can handle herself. She knows what she's doing. Try not to worry."

Tristan rose an eyebrow at that. Worry? He wasn't worried. Maybe concerned for the knights' lives if Arthur's reckless plan failed. But not worried. And especially not worry about Kayleigh.

Her laughter interrupted his thoughts. "Tristan does not worry," Kayleigh told Dagonet. "You have taken up that task yourself."

"Right," he said as they finished their meal. "Then let us not have anymore of these unscheduled arguments." Both Kayleigh and Tristan nodded in compliance.

* * *

The next day Kayleigh recruited Galahad and Gawain to help her raise a shelter for Ozgur and Fury during the wet seasons of summer. It was not yet time to separate the horse and colt, they still needed bonding and nursing time, and the stables did not have a stall large enough for the two to rest comfortably. After hours of weaving ripened branches through the erected posts that made up the frame of the shed, they made their way to the stables to mix a rough concoction of plaster that consisted of water, mud, straw, and horse manure. 

They grinned at each other in anticipation for their acted out fight. Kayleigh and Gawain stomped on the ingredients with their boots as Galahad added more water to the mixture. "Gods, this smells worse than you, Gawain," Kayleigh commented as she held her sleeve to her nose.

"I see," he said nodding, "but it doesn't smell worse than you. In fact, I think a little of this would make you smell better!" He brought his foot down hard into the brew, splattering it across the legs of Kayleigh's trousers.

"Eww! Those were my only pair," she complained.

"I'm sure Galahad will lend you a pair of his. You're both about the same size," Gawain commented. They both turned to him, sizing him up. Kayleigh nodded.

"Are you implying that I'm the same size as that skinny wench?" Galahad questioned.

Kayleigh frowned. Galahad was not a good actor. When he was truly angry it showed. One could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes. The display he was putting on now was a sad attempt. "Wench? Is that any way to speak of a tribal chief's daughter?" She almost laughed at the shocked looks she received from both men. Her origins were a touchy subject with Galahad and she soon got the true reaction she sought.

"Oh Fair Kayleigh, forgive our ignorance, for we did not know you were a princess!" Gawain said rather loudly, drawing some passerbys to stop at the stable doors and peer in. Kayleigh laughed as Gawain took her hands in his and knelt on one knee in the muck. "Show the woman some respect Galahad."

Galahad stood frozen, staring at the ground before him. He was afraid to look up and find truth in Kayleigh's eyes. It was not part of the script and he hoped that it was something she had made up to add to the deception. When he finally met her gaze and she looked away quickly, he knew it was true. Throwing the pail of dung at them, he turned and stalked from the building.

* * *

Now what to do with Galahad? Should we keep these tensions between them or do you think she's got enough to deal with and reconcile with him? 


	19. The Interceptor

Finally to some good stuff! I agree with Brandy, my last chapter wasn't as good as the one before, but this one's better than the last, I promise. I'm glad you all liked the part I gave Dagonet in last chapter. That was pretty much the only part of the chapter I was happy with. The "unscheduled arguments" line wasn't meant to have you rolling KAfan. Just a bit of fun words for the situation they are all in. I'm glad you got a good laugh from it though. I also agree that the Tristan and Lancelot tension is a lot more interesting than the Galahad so I think I'll scrap that. We'll have to wait until next chapter though, because this one's already jammed pack with information. Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

Kayleigh and Gawain departed the stables through the crowd of people. Brogan was amongst them and gave her an approving nod as they passed. She regretted telling Galahad that her father was the leader of the Exiles the way she had. It would only make any attempt at a relationship with him even more difficult. She felt Tristan's eyes on her and Gawain as they walked upon the field alone.

Once out of ear shot, Gawain spoke, "Is it true?" They put their buckets down and began plastering the shed.

"Yes," she replied quietly. "Is there any hope for a friendship between Galahad and I, or will he hold it against me forever?"

Gawain shrugged. "I don't know," he said truthfully. "He holds much resentment toward your tribe. The sons of your tribe were not forced to be killers. He never wanted to be a knight as his father was. Nor does he want to return home with a battle hardened heart as his father had, unable to love."

"I could not see Galahad that way. He does wish to return home so desperately," Kayleigh commented.

"Do you know why?" Gawain asked. When she shook her head he answered, "When he was taken from his home he was too young and weak to fight. Now he is a skilled and strong knight. He will return home to stand up to his father."

"He will kill him?" Kayleigh asked, eyes wide in shock.

Gawain laughed, "No. Even on the battlefield Galahad doesn't aim to kill, only to cripple. He kills out of necessity when his life or our lives are in immediate danger, nothing less. And even so he prefers weapons of range - the arrow, spear, lance - so that he does not have to look a dying man in the eye."

Kayleigh nodded. She would need to talk to Galahad later, but for now she would give him time to calm down. Glancing up, she saw Lancelot racing towards them on his steed. "What's wrong?" she called out to him as he approached.

"Woads!" he stopped his horse just short of the fence. "A warning signal was sent down Hadrian's Wall. They attacked a patrol of infantry along the Stanegate. We ride to aid them."

Gawain ran from the field to gather his armor before Lancelot had even finished his explanation. Lancelot watched Kayleigh expectantly. "What?" she asked.

"Come on, they will not wait," he said impatiently.

Were they going to let her fight, she thought. Her eyes gleamed and she climbed the fence that separated them and jumped from the barrier onto Lancelot's horse behind him.

"Did Arthur not say you were to take Jols' place?" he questioned as they galloped to the stables. Kayleigh nodded but she didn't know what Jols was to do in a situation like this. "Then you must prepare the horses."

"Does that also mean I must accompany you?" she asked hopefully.

"Normally Jols only accompanies us on longer missions. But seeing as how there's a mad man after you, I wouldn't feel comfortable leaving you here alone," he replied.

Kayleigh couldn't help but feel happy to be leaving the fort, even if only to ride to her death. It didn't matter where she was, being behind stone walls always made her feel trapped. And she would finally see these people that the Roman Empire could not bring to their knees and train. An admirable quality in her mind, to be sure.

It did not take long to prepare, as all their supplies were lined up waiting to go in anticipation of such an attack. The knights were used to riding in a moment's notice and it only took a moment for them to exit the fort and race down the road.

"What is that stench?" Kayleigh shouted forward accusingly from the rear of the posse.

In front of her, Dagonet looked back at her questioningly, apparently oblivious to the scent the wind brought. "Woad," Tristan shouted back at her from Dagonet's side. He slowed his horse slightly to ride beside her. "The natives use the woad plant to get the dye for war paint. The plant radiates a terrible smell after boiling."

"Ah, that is how you always know they're near," Lancelot shouted from the front of the line. "We always thought you had super human abilities."

"Who said I didn't?" Tristan replied cheekily.

As they came to a turn in the road, Woads bursted from their hiding place in the trees with a loud shout. Further down the road, a group of seven soldiers were trying to fend off a dozen rebels, bodies of both peoples littered the ground. The knights and Kayleigh instantly drew their weapons, charging the incoming attack. Tristan and Galahad shot down half of them before the two armies clashed, greatly increasing the chances for victory.

Arthur led the way through the wave of Woads, powerfully cutting down any in the way. Lancelot, Bors, and Dagonet dismounted in the middle of the fray, preferring close combat as the rest of them circled around for another attack on horseback. After Arthur was sure the knights could hold their own against the Woad reinforcements, he raced down the road to aid his fellow Romans, Lancelot close behind him.

Kayleigh fought off a few Woads from her place on Jols' horse but stole glances to the knights to witness their fighting skills in awe. Their combat skills were truly those of legend. Bors fought gruesomely, punching and slicing with the blades on his fists. Dagonet fought with sheer strength and brute. She was about to shout a warning to him as a Woad crept up behind him but an arrow lodged into the sneaky man before he got close enough to do harm. The arrow came from Galahad, who watched the knights' backs from his horse, picking off the enemy that was trying to outnumber a man already engaged in combat. Gawain was fighting fiercely with a small axe and knife. He seemed to like the feel of the enemy's warm blood on his hands.

She turned her head to scan the area but before she could spot the other knights in action, a pair of hands pulled her from the saddle. She landed hard on her back, the air escaping her lungs, losing her sword in the process. Cursing herself inwardly for being caught off guard, she gasped for air, her hands searching for a weapon, any weapon she could use against the man who had tackled her.

The man suddenly slumped over on top of her. Kayleigh rolled out from underneath him and found Tristan standing above them, sword covered in gore. "For once, I'm glad you were watching me," she told him with a smirk as she stood up. She grabbed the dagger from her boot and hurled it at a man coming at Tristan's back, axe raised.

Tristan turned to see the Woad fall and he nodded appreciatively at her. "I suppose now we're even," he said.

A horn sounded from the trees and the Woads that were still standing retreated into the fog. Bors took a few steps towards the trees, yelling obscenities at them, daring them to come back for more. Arthur and Lancelot rejoined them along with the few remaining patrol soldiers.

"Does he need a leash?" Kayleigh asked Lancelot in amusement as the others retrieved their weapons and delivered mercy blows to the fallen.

"No, he knows our stance is strictly defensive. We do not strike first or follow when they retreat," he answered. "Besides," he added, "I think Vanora already has one for him."

Dagonet had insisted that he check over Kayleigh for injuries knowing she would not readily request help if she needed it. After only discovering a scratch on her arm and a couple of tender ribs from her fall they were on their way back to the fort.

Kayleigh rode up between Arthur and Lancelot. "I don't see how these Woads can be such a challenge for the Roman Empire," she commented. "They aren't great warriors. They lack discipline and order."

"Some say they have magic on their side," Lancelot chuckled at the thought. "But then some say Rome has God on their side."

"What do you think?" Kayleigh asked Lancelot.

He snorted, "There's not much difference between the two. The only powers a man can count on are his own."

"What they lack in discipline and order they make up for in spirit and determination," Arthur said, ignoring Lancelot's comment.

After returning to the fort and settling their horses in the stables, Kayleigh was pulled aside by Brogan. "What now? I've done what you've requested of me," she told him, pushing him aside as she walked through the streets. He grasped her cut arm tightly, causing her to wince, and lead her to the back of one of the buildings.

"Your task is not yet completed. All of the knights must be against each other. It is the only way to kill them," Brogan hissed.

"Could you not just turn them to your cause? They hate Rome as much as I," she reasoned. The more she got him to talk, the better chance he would give up useful information to her.

"No, they would never fight against their beloved commander. There are already many amongst us now that have agreed to join. It is most likely we will be victorious, and with them out of the way it is certain," he said darkly.

"Why not just wait a few months until they are discharged from service?"

Brogan shook his head, "When they are discharged, newly trained, young, strong knights will take their place. Besides, the Saxons are very impatient people."

"Saxons?"

He almost laughed at the shock on her face, "They have already taken lands in the south."

"This was their idea?" she asked unbelievingly.

Brogan could not hold back his laughter this time. "Those dumb barbarians don't have the capacity to come up with such an elaborate plan as this. It was a Roman who hired entire Saxon tribes as mercenaries. There is much money to be made here and the Saxons aren't the only people that want a piece of it," he revealed.

This was the information she was seeking. It was vague but it gave them an idea as to how large this secret operation was.

"Which brings me to the next task you are to perform," he said, pausing to enjoy her nervous anticipation. "One of the patrol soldiers was delivering a very important message to me from another of our allies. You must bring it to me before somebody else finds it."

"How am I supposed to do that?" she asked. She knew exactly how. She would tell Arthur what she had heard and he would have no problem putting her life out there for the Woads to take. Kayleigh knew he would sacrifice her life if he had the chance to foil Brogan's plan and save the lives of many more. And she didn't mind it as long as it meant Brogan would have been discovered and punished for his treachery.

"Arthur will send troops and a wagon to retrieve the bodies of the fallen. His damn beliefs won't let him abandon the bodies to be pecked at by animals. You have already proven yourself in battle. Volunteer for the job," he commanded.

Kayleigh nodded. It actually was a good idea on his part. It frightened her to think of what plans he had contributed to the overthrow of the Romans. Combining evil thoughts with Saxon brute could only result with destruction.

* * *

The mention of Saxons had Arthur and his knights very concerned. Not knowing who the mastermind behind the rebellion was, he could not send out warning letters to the surrounding forts without his own plan being discovered. He could, however, send a request to Rome for more military units in the face of increasing Saxon raids.

As Arthur sent dispatch, Kayleigh and the group of soldiers came upon the bloody battlefield. Birds had already flocked to the area, ripping the meat from bones of the deceased. As they approached, the birds took flight and disappeared into the fog as the Woads had earlier that day. There were no signs of the enemy and the bodies of their fallen still remained. Kayleigh wondered if they left the dead where they fell or would come back for them later, after the Roman presence was gone.

She quickly found the man Brogan described as the dispatch carrier and dismounted. Finding the letter in his boot, she stealthily hid it in her trousers. On the ground she got a better look at the Woads. Their weapons weren't made of quality materials and they were severely lacking any kind of armor at all. The only thing she did find impressive were the intricate patterns of war paint and the designs of their tattoos. Tristan was right, it was the Woad plant that made them smell and the stench of death did not help either.

Kayleigh climbed back on Jols' horse and watched as the soldiers stacked the remainder of the bodies on the cart. "Look at this," one of the men called to his fellow soldiers. He stood above a Woad body. Reaching down he took a talisman from the limp hand.

"It must be one of the evil idols they worship," a soldier close to him said in disgust, spitting on the body of the Woad.

"Pagans!" another yelled.

"Even so, it might be worth something in the marketplace," the first reasoned.

Kayleigh was sickened by what she saw. Her tribe had always treated their enemies' bodies with respect, for death through battle was the most honorable one. "What would Arthur do if he heard you desecrated the bodies of the dead?" she asked calmly. The soldier dropped the talisman and the men finished their work in silence.

Immediately after arriving back at the fort, Kayleigh brought Arthur the letter, who carefully pried it open being sure not to break the wax seal. She watched as he read it, the lines of worry on his face only deepening. The knights slowly began to take their places at the Round Table upon hearing of Kayleigh's return. Arthur finished reading and slumped down into his chair.

"What does it say Arthur?" Lancelot questioned. In all their days together, he had not seen Arthur this discouraged.

He sighed, "They have recruited forces from the western isle, Erin. Their plan is to trap us inland - the Saxons from the south and east, Scots from the west. They know we will not be able to retreat north into Woad territory. The date of attack is in one month's time. Even if Rome approves my request for more troops, they will never make it here in time."


	20. Violence by Moonlight

Brandy- I'm glad you thought my last chapter was better. I hope this one doesn't disappoint. I've seen your story but have not had the time to read it yet. The summary sounds great though!

Kafan- I was really trying to write something to fit Lancelot and Galahad character last chapter. I'm not so sure I did very good with keeping Tristan in character for this chapter. Let me know, I might have to change it.

SpectralLady- I'm sorry if last chapter was too scary for you. You can have your favorite knight for this chapter to comfort you.

Zelinia- Yes, it is fun to play with Galahad. Poor kid. I really do love torturing readers with cliffhangers. Sorry guys but how else am I going to get you all to read the next chapter?

Blarney- No prob. Read and review as you please. I'm not really sure where I'm going with Lavena. I'm glad you didn't have to skim through my battle scenes. I hate that when they are so long and you get lost in the details.

Evenstar- I would like to see that... you breaking Brogan. Sounds like fun. Sorry, though, his fate is sealed.

Babak- My email is finally on my profile, sorry about that.

Dmitchell- My plan for every chapter is to leave you hanging so you're sucked into reading the next.

Cardeia- Thank you for your comments. I like how you put that. Dialog should be part of the action, not a break from it. I completely agree. I hope don't go against that too much

Jill- Thanks soooo much for the happy vibes! I was so surprised and pleased to get your email. You can review anytime, even if you don't have suggestions. I like it either way, as most authors do. I just discovered Chosen Path about a month ago and I still haven't caught up to recent chapters. It's a good one so far. And ya know, I think I might have taken the chocolate instead of reading my fic!

* * *

The atmosphere was heavy with despair as the knights and Kayleigh filed from the Great Hall. Arthur had yet to establish a plan of action to defend the country. The specifics of the attack were not listed, only the date. Neither the names of those involved nor details of battle tactics were included. The wax was carefully heated to reseal the letter and it was given back to Kayleigh to deliver to Brogan.

As Kayleigh exited the room she thought she saw something from the corner of her eye but dismissed it as a dancing shadow when she turned and saw nothing. Lancelot reverted her attention to him as he sighed heavily, "I'm going for a drink. Who's with me?"

"I'm too depressed to drink," Bors said to the surprise of all present. He turned and left the building to seek comfort from Vanora.

"I could use a drink or two," Galahad accepted Lancelot's offer.

"Galahad, just a moment," Kayleigh said, reaching for his elbow. He stopped and turned to her expectantly.

"Would you care to join us, lady?" Lancelot invited warmly.

She shook her head, "No, I have a letter to deliver."

Lancelot let out a low growl as he thought of who she would have to meet with. "Perhaps afterward," he suggested.

"Perhaps," she replied. Lancelot, Gawain, and Dagonet headed off to the tavern and Tristan waited outside to give Galahad and Kayleigh some privacy.

"What is it Kayleigh," he asked impatiently, eager to get drunk and bed a woman in attempt to forget about the latest news.

"I am sorry I told you about my father the way I did," she said sincerely. "I did not mean to hurt you. I cannot help what father I was born to any more than you can."

"I know Kayleigh..." he started. This was something he did not want to talk about right now. In fact, he never wanted to talk about it.

Then she did something he did not expect her to do. She took his hands in hers and grasped them in a gesture of friendship. The fact that she initiated the physical contact spoke volumes to him. He remembered the day she jumped back from his touch. Kayleigh gave his hands a little squeeze, "I trust you, Galahad. Your heart is true. I hope that someday you will be able to put my past behind you so that we may be friends."

He gave her a small, but warm, smile. That was good enough for her. It would take time. And she would make sure they had an abundance of it. She left, determined to get more information out of Brogan this time.

Walking the dark streets slowly, she glanced around but could find no sign of the degenerate man. She frowned. She did not see Tristan either. Hopefully he was only getting better at hiding in the shadows and he hadn't abandoned her. She saw a blur of movement and turned to see the tail of a cloak disappear behind a building.

"Tristan?" she called uncertainly, cautiously stepping around the corner. She hadn't gotten two paces into the darkness before someone grabbed her from behind, trapping her arms underneath his grasp. Brogan appeared before her, surprising her that there were two of them this time.

"Tristan," he mocked her in a high voice before laughing in her face. "Have you fallen for the lonely knight?" When she didn't say a word, he slapped her across the face, leaving a bright hand print. "You answer when I ask you a question!" he roared. "Perhaps you didn't like that one, shall we try another? What were you doing meeting with Arthur and his knights?"

She opened her mouth to answer but before she could, Brogan's fist was embedded into her stomach. Kayleigh coughed at the sudden impact. "I told you to answer when I asked you a question," Brogan sneered before slapping her across the face again. "Find the letter," he told her captor. The man ran his hands roughly down her frame until he came across the paper and pulled it from her breeches. He released her and she fell to the ground gasping for breath.

Brogan snatched the dispatch from the man's hand and inspected it closely. Kayleigh watched anxiously to see if he detected any tampering they had done with it. When he was satisfied, he broke the seal and opened it, reading its contents.

A glint of moonlight off of something shiny caught her eye. She looked over Brogan's shoulder from her place on the ground and saw Tristan. He was on the roof of the adjacent building, watching the scene intently. His dagger was out and ready if the need for intervention arose. She shot him a glare as if to warn him not to ruin her efforts.

"You did not answer my question," Brogan said, and she quickly adverted her eyes back to him. "I know you have a tongue in that pretty little mouth of yours, but if you wish not to speak again I can cut it out for you," he said threateningly.

Kayleigh gathered her strength and stood, "There was trouble with some of the soldiers stealing from the bodies of the fallen. I thought Arthur should know of it. I happened to walk in on one of their meetings." She hadn't really told Arthur about the attempt but what she said was true. The soldiers had tried to steal and she did think Arthur should know.

"What's so wrong with stealing from the dead? They won't get any use out of their possessions," the man in the shadows said.

_Because it is wrong to take from the defenseless_, she was about to say, but then remembered they were Roman. _That is part of their nature_, she thought grimly. "Were you not going to introduce your friend, Brogan?" she asked instead.

"I would, but you've already met," Brogan said as the man stepped into the moonlight. Kayleigh looked over the man and nodded. It was the prison keeper. That explained how Brogan knew of Kayleigh's actions before she came to the cell. He was his informer to the fort's activities. He had access to the paperwork of all the scoundrels around. "So that is how you gathered a following. You've recruited all of the criminals that have already showed their hatred toward Rome."

"The latest recruit being you," Brogan said giving her his yellow crooked smile.

"Who else have you recruited?" she asked daringly.

"Why should I tell you? You were unwilling to do the job in the first place," he reminded her.

"I want to be on the winning side," she said, hoping he would buy it. "The more you reveal about your extensive numbers and intricate plan, the more I'm beginning to believe that your side is the one I want to be on."

He studied her in the dark alleyway trying to find sincerity in her features, but she revealed nothing. "There is no sitting on the fence with this issue. You're either on my side, or you're dead. Until you have proven yourself, I will not trust you with the information of a battle I have so carefully planned. Finish the tasks I have given you and I will consider sparing you from death by a Saxon hand."

Having said that, Brogan and his follower left. "I would not give you the same courtesy," she said in the dark after she was sure they wouldn't be able to hear.

Tristan jumped down from his hiding spot on the roof. "You did good," he said, impressed that she had kept her anger in check while enduring the beating she received. He didn't dare ask her if she was injured.

Kayleigh nodded, grateful for the compliment. "I must retire for the night," she said. "Will you tell Lancelot I will take up his offer another time?"

He nodded abruptly before looking away. A night of drinking with Lancelot only led to one thing for a woman. Though he couldn't be sure the same fate would befall the stubborn woman beside him.

Kayleigh waited until she was safely in her quarters before vomiting, just barely making it to the wash basin in time. From the moment her stomach received the blow from Brogan, it had been in knots. She had pushed the feeling of rising nausea down, refusing to let those men see her in that weakened state. Collapsing on the bed, she pulled the covers over her head for a fitful night's sleep.

* * *

Over the next few days, Kayleigh hid her increasing number of bruises and cuts in shame. She found that dirt hid them well and her trips to the bathhouse became fewer and far in between. Tristan could hardly take standing back and watching how Brogan was mistreating her. He had even gone so far as to send his bird down to interrupt a beating. Afterwards, Kayleigh had met up with him in a storm of harsh words.

"Don't you ever intervene like that again," she had said through clenched teeth. "Do not make the suffering I have endured be in vain."

That was yesterday and he hadn't seen her since. He had to give her credit for the crafty ways she eluded him, dodging behind moving carts and losing him in a crowd. It was just before midnight as Tristan peered down from the battlements, searching for any suspicious activity. The irony of it caught him. Usually he was watching the outside of the fort for his enemies.

A cry pierced through the foggy night, causing Tristan to shudder. It didn't sound human. He flew down the stairs, grabbing a torch on the way down, and raced toward were the noise had come from. He searched the streets until he came upon Kayleigh's form. She was facing away, back towards him, her head bowed so that her hair curtained her face. "Kayleigh..." he said, approaching her cautiously, not knowing what had caused her to scream the way she had.

She raised her head slowly as she turned to him. Specks of blood dotted her face like freckles and her eyes were empty. As he neared her, he saw the front of her dress streaked with blood. He rushed to her then, dropping the torch to the ground beside them and gripping her shoulders, afraid she would fall over. Brogan had gone too far this time. "Where is he?" Tristan demanded.

"I couldn't do it anymore," she said, staring straight ahead into his chest.

Tristan was confused. "Kayleigh," he said, grasping her chin and lifting it so that she looked him in the eyes. "What happened?"

The gesture seemed to rip her from her dazed state. "I'm sorry..." was all that she could manage in response.

He shook his head fiercely as if the act would make her words more logical. He should have been there for her. It was his job, and yet it had become more than that. He began to tolerate her and then even enjoy her stubborn and insulting ways. She said everything he wished he could. And tonight he had failed her.

A glow of red light caught his eye. Kayleigh was gripping her dragon hilt dagger in her hand and it was covered with blood. He lifted her wrist to examine it. The blood dripped from the blade onto her hand. He stepped back from her. The blood belonged to someone else. He looked to their feet. They were standing in a pool of blood that was flowing from the other side of Kayleigh. Tristan moved her aside to find Brogan's body. There was no question it was murder. The man had been stabbed repeatedly.

"We need to go," Tristan said, taking a hold of Kayleigh's arm and dragging her to his quarters. Brogan's body would soon be discovered and his followers ready to avenge his death. And they would know exactly who did it.

Tristan locked the door behind them and sat her down in the chair by his desk. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"You should be," he said, "for robbing me of the joy of torturing him before you killed him."

Kayleigh smiled despite herself, "They will be after me now."

Tristan nodded. "That is why you are staying here. They wouldn't dare enter."

"I must tell Arthur what I have learned tonight," Kayleigh protested.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, putting another log on the fire.

"Then you must deliver him a message for me," she suggested as an alternative.

Tristan shook his head, "I'm not leaving you alone again. You get into too much trouble."

"Is that a promise," she asked leaning back in the chair with a smile.

He shot her a sideways glance and a half smile. "It's more of a punishment."

"For you or for me," Kayleigh wondered. Tristan stood up from his crouched position and stared at her, wondering where these questions were leading to. "I need to talk to Arthur," she said finally, giving up on an answer. "It's important, Tristan."

"Then we will both go," he said, giving in.

* * *

Arthur was in his quarters reviewing maps of the area and surrounding countries when he heard his name whispered. He looked around the dark room listening intently. He shook his head when he heard nothing but silence. _Maybe I should get some rest_, he thought as he reached for a copy of the letter. He had scribed it before Kayleigh took the original to Brogan. Examining it closely, he hoped to discover some information that he hadn't seen the first dozen times he had read it.

"Arthur," the whisper came louder this time. He wasn't imagining voices, it was coming from the window. Pulling the shutters open, he found Tristan perched on the roof of the lower level. Arthur stood stunned for a moment as Tristan helped Kayleigh into the room and followed.

"What are you doing?" his commander asked.

"I'm sorry to disturb you this late, Arthur, but I had to tell what I've discovered," Kayleigh said appologetically.

"Maybe next time you can discover the door," he said, not meaning for it to come out as harshly as it had. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Why are you two prowling around in the middle of the night?"

"Brogan's followers will be after me," she told him.

"Why?" Arthur asked, eyebrow raised, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Because I killed him," she said in a matter of fact tone.

"What!" Arthur nearly yelled.

"Stabbed him," Tristan elaborated.

He looked at the two in disbelief. Tristan looked almost proud of the woman. Kayleigh didn't seem remorseful in the least. "Don't worry," she said taking in his concerned face. "I got one last tidbit of information out of him before he died and it will be more useful than anything before."

"That's murder," Arthur said, sitting back down in his chair.

Kayleigh crossed her arms in front of her. "I have gotten information that will help you," she repeated, more slowly this time. She did not like being accused of murder from the man she had suffered so much for.

"I hope you have something that will help you. You killed a man in cold blood!" Arthur exclaimed.

"Yes," she admitted. "His cold blood! Or should I remind you that he threatened your existence as well as mine? Even your beloved Rome's!"

Tristan put a hand on her shoulder to calm her but she threw it off. "Damn Rome! I have suffered for you, Arthur, for your knights!" She pulled the sleeves of her dress up to reveal layers of nasty bruises coloring her skin a sickly green and blue.

Arthur looked at her in shock. He had no idea how far this had gone. He looked to Tristan, who turned his head away in shame from the pain he had left her to. "And this is not the worst of it," Kayleigh added. "Now listen to what I have to say and use it well. I have the names of those involved."


	21. Bloodied Hands

A/N: I am so, so, so sorry it took me so long to update. I've been working two jobs, 8-12 hours a day, without a day off for two weeks. I'm really not happy with this chapter but you all have been waiting so long I figure it's better than nothing. And I really don't have the time right now to fix it. So here's my crappy chapter. Replies to reviews are at the bottom this time.

* * *

"Tell me what you have heard, Kayleigh," Arthur requested, his voice softer now. He did not know of Brogan's mistreatment towards her. That was no way to treat an animal let alone a human being, a woman. Guilt started to set in his heart as he realized what he had subjected her to. He never should have suggested that she do this.

"A Gaelic leader, Airell, will bring 200 of his Champions, as skilled and deadly with a sword as your knights, and attack from the western island. They will move inland, along with the Saxons from the east, coming together in force to attack this fort. After they have taken over the defenses on the Stanegate, they will use it as a headquarters to launch attacks on the rest of the country."

Arthur nodded, taking in all of the information Kayleigh revealed. It wasn't a bad plan. Just then there was a short, loud knock before the door flew open. "Arthur, Brogan's dead . . . " Dagonet's eyes scanned the room quickly and met with his visitors. "Kayleigh!" He stopped short of running to her when her appearance and the recent discovery of the man's body in the street clicked. He looked again at Arthur wondering what he had walked in on.

"Dagonet, wake the others. We will convene in the Great Hall in a half hour. All will be revealed then," Arthur commanded. They needed a strong leader. He just wished he knew what he would do.

"I'll send Lavena up to draw a bath and bring you new clothes, Kayleigh. Tristan, burn the evidence," he said, nodding towards Kayleigh's bloodied garments. "We will protect you for as long as we can," Arthur told her. "I'm sorry," he said before heading to the church. He needed God's guidance and wisdom now more than ever.

"Christ be merciful," Lavena cried as she saw Kayleigh in her blood stained clothes. She would have dropped the pail of water she was carrying if it weren't for Tristan's quick reflexes. "What happened to you? You look like a butcher on a busy day."

The edges of Kayleigh's lips quirked up at the truthfulness of the maid's comment. The life she had ended with the flick of a blade was that of an animal. "Yes," she replied, "my prey was rather large."

"Let's get you cleaned up then," Lavena offered, taking the pail of water from Tristan and pouring it into a tub in the corner of the room. It took four trips to fill the tub with a sufficient amount of water to bathe. Putting the pail down, she bowed her head waiting patiently for Tristan to leave. She did not have the courage to address a knight, especially one as intimidating as Tristan. After a moment she looked to Kayleigh for help.

"He will stay," Kayleigh told her friend. She nearly laughed as the displeased face Lavena gave her. "It's okay," she said as she moved a screen from beside Arthur's clothing chest in front of the tub for privacy.

Lavena shook her head in disapproval of allowing the man to stay in the same room as a bathing lady but her frown faded. These ways used to acceptable, But that was before the Roman Empire converted to Christianity, however. She reluctantly followed Kayleigh to the tub.

The lamplight behind them cast shadows against the screen. Tristan watched as Kayleigh's silhouette peeled the stained clothes from her form, tossing them to the floor carelessly. His eyes wandered over her curves before she settled into the water. Turning away, he moved to the window to focus his attention on his duties. He was there to keep her from harm but his mind had started to travel down a road less than honorable. Unwillingly, his eyes darted sporadically in the direction of the screen, occasionally catching the shadow of a sleek leg Kayleigh rose to wash or the rise of her chest as she untangled her hair.

After the grime and gore was gently washed from her tender skin, Kayleigh adorned the thin dress Lavena had brought her. It was a light lavender color, the front and back of it held together by pins on her shoulders. She liked how the material felt against her skin, cool and smooth. Stepping out from behind the screen she found Tristan staring out the window. The moonlight caught the angle of his face just right, accenting his high cheekbones. His tattoos only served to make him appear more wild and exotic.

He turned in that moment and she blushed as he caught her staring. Her hand unconsciously went up to her shoulder, checking to make sure the clasp that held her dress together was still secure. For some reason, she felt exposed as he gazed at her.

"We need to go," he said, breaking the silence between them. Brushing past her, he picked up her bloodied clothes and threw them into the burning fireplace.

Placing his hand on the small of her back, he guided her through the hallways to the Great Hall. She did not have this section of the fortress mapped out in her head, for she had never had a reason to explore the commander's headquarters.

Besides Arthur, who met them in the hallway just outside the door, they were the last to arrive. The knights' grumbling and grumpy faces faded as Kayleigh entered the room. They stared at her as she moved to sit next to Lancelot, "Please don't stop on my account. I'll be adding my own disheartened grunts soon enough." The room was quiet as they all continued to gaze at her. "What?"

"You look terrible," Dagonet finally said. The dirt from her face was now washed away uncovering a slightly swollen eye and bruised cheek. Her arms showed off purple marks, evidence of being grasped too tightly by a large hand. An angry cut stood out on her neck, displaying itself from just under her ear to her collarbone.

"And yet you look beautiful at the same time," Lancelot complimented with a smile but his eyes betrayed bewilderment. Kayleigh didn't know how to take the reactions, so she stayed quiet, waiting for Arthur to speak.

"Brogan is dead," Arthur announced to the knights who had not yet heard.

Bors, Galahad, and Gawain shot a look at Lancelot. "What? The credit for ridding the world of that snake is not mine to claim," he told them. "...unfortunately someone beat me to it," he added, looking to Arthur for the answer to his unspoken question.

"I claim the credit for it," Kayleigh asserted.

"You killed him?" Bors asked in disbelief. Though she had made threats, he never thought she had it in her to kill.

"Yes," Kayleigh admitted.

"Why?" Galahad asked. He was also trying to understand how she could end a man's life so brutally, even if it was Brogan.

Arthur chose this time to interject for her, "It seems Brogan has been . . . mistreating her for some time now."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Lancelot exploded, looking accusingly from Kayleigh to Arthur. "You should have done something about this earlier!" he glared at his commander.

"I was not aware. There was only one other that had knowledge of it," Arthur said smoothly, trying to calm him.

Lancelot turned his stare toward Tristan, "And you just watched as that bastard hurt her? What kind of knight are you? What kind of man?"

Tristan stared back blankly at the man, which only seemed to infuriate him more. Lancelot waited for an answer but Tristan didn't feel he needed to defend himself from the hothead.

And it seemed he didn't need to as Kayleigh place a hand on Lancelot's shoulder, "I asked him not to tell anyone." She glanced at Tristan, who raised an eyebrow. "Actually, threatened him would be more accurate."

"Why?" Gawain asked. "We could have helped."

"I didn't want your help. Brogan surely would have known something was amiss then. And I didn't want your pity as I don't now, so stop looking at me like that," she said sternly, looking each of the men in the eye.

"We need to know exactly what happened tonight, Kayleigh," Arthur requested gently. "If we are to protect you, we must have all of the details."

Kayleigh looked down at her fidgety hands on the table. Telling this story to these knights was going to be the most humiliating moment of her life. Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes, resurrecting the memories she had tried to bury deep within her mind.

"He did not think I was doing my job well enough. His spies knew the knights remained whole. I told him it would be hard to divide them, all being brothers of a common nation. The bonds go further than fellow knights, to fellow countrymen. He became angered by this revelation and lashed out at me. It all happened so fast. I was on the ground . . . he was on top of me . . . I thought he was going to . . . " she stopped. She could not say the words. Taking in a shaky breath, she continued, not daring to look up into the eyes of her audience. The shame was almost unbearable.

"I fought back and escaped to the street but I tripped and he caught me by the arm as I rose again. He turned me around to face him, uttering obscenities, and he backhanded me. That is the ultimate insult, a humiliation one would deliver to a slave!" Her shaky voice became steady and grew in volume with her anger. "He expected me to cower in submission to him. I could not take his dominating attitude anymore so I drew my dagger and buried it to the hilt in his stomach." Her honor regained, she looked around the table to see the reactions of the knights. None of them looked too displeased with her.

"All I saw from that moment was red, lost in my rage. When my vision cleared, Brogan was on the ground, dying a slow painful death. I cannot say I regret it. I gave him the opportunity to confess his sins while he still could, giving him the chance to save him from this Hell the Christians are always damning us pagans to," Kayleigh gave Lancelot a tiny smirk. "I think he did not appreciate the suggestion so I offered a quick death instead. As his pain increased, he succumbed, telling me about Airell, the Scotti chieftain and his Champions coming from Ulaidh. He did not have time to reveal more, nor did I have the chance to end his suffering before the life drained from his black veins."

Lancelot placed a hand on Kayleigh's shoulder, "He deserved such a fate." The other knights nodded in agreement.

"Unfortunately Rome will not see it that way. Men have higher legal status than women," Arthur said.

Lancelot shook his head in disbelief. His commander always talked about Rome and equality but it was just a dream in his head. One that would never come true. Lancelot bit his tongue to keep him from saying so. What would be the use? The conversation was old and Arthur still believed he could make the world a perfect place if only he performs enough good deeds. "Kayleigh only acted in her own defense. Something we should have done for her," Lancelot chose to say instead.

"I know that," Arthur said. "I will not write up charges against her but Brogan's followers will not be satisfied with this. If they demand trial, only evidence of Brogan's treason will save her, something we don't yet have. This is why we will be traveling to Erin to meet with Airell."

* * *

A/N #2: I hope that wasn't too much of a disappointment. If so, tell me and I won't torture you all with this story anymore. Otherwise, I'm not sure when I will have the chance to write more so be patient.

Cardeia- I hope my Kayleigh's explanation for killing Brogan wasn't too over the top. I feel like it's too dramatic for her, but it had to be to push her that far to kill him, right? The exciting times are coming up next chapter, if I get around to writing it.

KAfan- I'm glad Tristan's reactions to how Brogan was treating Kayleigh were believable. I hope I didn't stray too far from the character's personalities in this chapter. I'm trying to be nicer to Arthur's character. I just don't like him in the first place. Anyway, I'm so glad that you finally updated your fic too!

Zelinia- I'm glad she finally killed him too. Of course, actions always have their consequences. There's another cliffie for you.

Brandy- Sorry I left you hanging so long on that cliff. I hope you are still with me here and haven't lost your grip. What do you mean you need help with your fic? I think it's coming along great!

dmitchell- Sorry, you'll have another cliffhanger. Hopefully it won't take me two weeks to update again, though.

Evenstar- Yes, Arthur is usually in his own little world, oblivious to the cruelty going on around him. He needs a lesson from Tristan, yes?

SpectralLady- I hadn't even thought about putting the knight's reactions in the story until you mentioned it. So I put in a little uproar from Lancelot. I hope that was sufficient.

Babak- I've only left you all in the dark about the pairings because I'm in the dark as well. You might have picked up on a little spark between her and another knight in this chapter though. That's who I'm leaning towards. If you didn't pick up on it, then I'm a sucky writer. I actually deleted a whole chunk of it in there because I thought it was too much too fast.

Blarneylvrose- Personally, I know it's not a far stretch to go from threatening one's life to lashing out physically. When threats fail to have a hold over someone, a person with Brogan's personality will resort to physical attacks to try to control their subject.


	22. Over the Sea

A/N: So sorry this chapter took so long. I have a bit more time now so hopefully chapters will be coming more often. I'm glad everyone liked the Kayleigh/Tristan scene in the last chapter. It would be nice to get some feedback on this chapter too.

* * *

"That was fun. We should do it again soon," Gawain stated sarcastically. Dagonet grinned at the staggering knight who was sick from their recent sea journey.

"What are you talking about? That was the worst ship voyage I've ever made!" Galahad exclaimed as he fell to his knees on the rocky beach, thankful to be on solid land again.

Gawain shook his head at his friend, "You've only ever been on one other sea voyage!"

"Yes, and that one was less torturous," Galahad explained impatiently. "I'm never setting foot on a boat again."

"That is fine," Kayleigh said as she unloaded his horse from the ship and handed him the reigns, "if you wish to never leave this island."

Galahad stood and snatched the reigns from her, "I'll swim back."

"You don't even know how to swim," Bors burst out in a peal of laughter.

"Remind me why we came here again," Gawain asked Lancelot who was helping Kayleigh with the horses. He could only shrug and shake his head. This attempt to convert the Scots to their cause seemed like a far stretch at victory, even for Arthur.

"Because the Scots are the only people we have no fight with," Arthur explained again wearily. "We cannot reason with Saxons. Their only objective is to kill anything in their path. Nor can we turn to the Woads, an enemy we have buried in the ground for centuries."

When Arthur had revealed his plan to come to Erin during the meeting two nights ago, the knights showed their doubt outright. Surprisingly, the only one that thought it was a good idea was Kayleigh. But what other choice did she have? Brogan's followers were in the shadows waiting to kill her. She would rather die confronting one potential enemy than hiding like a coward from another.

Despite the knights' uncertainties, they followed their commander's orders and after little sleep, rode with haste to Britain's western most port. Before leaving, Arthur gave Tiberius commands to root out the rebels and imprison them, starting with the prison keeper and the names of those criminals in his ledgers. If he hears no word from Arthur within the week, he was to evacuate the villagers to Vindolanda where they could make a stronger stand against the invasions.

With only two weeks to spare, the knights, Arthur, and Kayleigh made their way through the dense forests of Erin. From the accounts of some Britons living near the sea that had been to the other side, they were given to believe the Scotti tribe they sought was only a few miles northwestern from where they landed. Arthur took the lead carrying a white flag of peace while Tristan brought up the rear of the party, his alert eyes darting between the leaves looking for danger.

"Sounds like a festival," Kayleigh said as their horses moved slowly and quietly forward. The high notes of a whistled tune reached her ear and drum beats made the thick air around her vibrate.

Tristan nodded his head in confirmation behind her, "Or a funeral."

"I don't hear anything," Galahad said, stopping his horse to listen more closely. Behind him, Bors' horse reared to prevent running into Galahad.

"Keep moving," Bors yelled at the young knight after releasing a long string of curses.

Gawain turned around in his saddle waiting for Galahad to catch up with him and Arthur. "You can't hear it because you're human like the rest of us," Gawain whispered. "Kayleigh and Tristan can hear it because they have ears like wolves."

"Heard that!" Kayleigh and Tristan said in unison.

Gawain smiled back at them as they glared at him. "See?" he told Galahad before facing forward in his saddle again.

As they came closer to their destination, the music got louder and voices began accompanying it. Finally, the trees cleared and a large village came into view. People that were clearly intoxicated danced before a stone temple, some only half clothed. Others dressed in ceremonious clothing brought offerings of hunted animals into the temple. There was a long table topped with meat, bread, fruit, and drink in the middle of the village.

The knights lined their horses up side by side for a better look. "They pay tribute to their gods," Kayleigh said.

"I think I'll convert to their religion," Bors told her, licking his lips.

At Arthur's command, they dismounted and waited just outside the tree line to be noticed. He didn't want them to seem threatening or intrusive. After a few minutes, one of the religious followers spotted the knights, dropped the offering plate in fear, and ran inside the temple. When he reappeared, he was following a short, cubby man dressed in white robes. He gathered a crowd as he approached the newcomers.

He addressed Arthur in a language the knights did not understand. It sounded suspiciously close to the language the Woads used. "Who are you?" he demanded.

Being half Briton, Arthur could manage to communicate with the man well enough, even if his words were choppy and rudimentary. "I am Artorius Castus and these are my knights. We come from Britain in peace," Arthur explained.

"You may go back to Britain in peace," the man said waving them off in great gestures with his hands to shoo them away. Kayleigh raised an eyebrow and looked at Dagonet next to her who was doing a poor job at hiding an amused grin. He didn't need to understand the language to tell what the man had said to Arthur.

"We are looking for a man by the name of Airell. Do you know where we can find him?" Arthur continued, ignoring the man's attitude.

"I do," a tall man with long, pale blonde hair replied, coming from behind the crowd. He came up beside the other man, "That was no way to treat our guests Orin. As I think upon it Orin, I never invited you to our celebrations. Why don't you go back to where you came from?" Orin turned and stormed off. "Be sure to take some of our food as well. I hear it's a long journey to the fog lands," the man called after him and the crowded roared in laughter before going about their festivities again.

The man turned back to Arthur, "Pay him no heed. He only seeks to cause trouble in our kingdom's affairs. My name is Dedric, son of Airell. I will take you to him." He pulled two men from the crowd and instructed them to take the horses.

Tristan stood protectively in front of his horse looking the man who was to take him dangerously in the eye. "I will take them," Kayleigh said, saving the Scott man from certain trauma. Tristan nodded and stood back as she started to lead her horse and his to the stables.

Dedric stepped before her, "And you are?"

"Kayleigh. It is my job to care for the horses," she said in their language to the surprise of Arthur and his knights.

"A fair lady such as yourself does not belong in the stables with animals," he said, taking the reigns from her hands and handing them off to the man he had instructed. He continued to hold her hands in his and brought them up to brush his lips across her knuckles. "You are a guest here and will be treated as such. Will you accompany me to the courtyard Lady Kayleigh?"

Kayleigh nearly laughed at the man's flamboyant charm. He was worse than Lancelot, who was glaring coldly at Dedric for the obvious flirty gestures he had made towards Kayleigh. Lancelot caught her eye and she threw him a quick wink before turning back to Dedric. "Do not worry, I am used to being in the company of animals," she said, gesturing with her head towards the knights.

Dedric laughed as he glanced at the oblivious men. "I see your meaning."

"What did she say," Galahad questioned Arthur beside him. Arthur shook his head with a small smirk on his face, unwilling to let the knights in on the joke.

Kayleigh grabbed the reins back from the man, putting Tristan's mind at ease. "Besides, I am in no fashion to grace the presence of fine men. Perhaps after seeing to the animals and cleaning myself up I will join you," she said, hoping her decline of his invitation wouldn't cause friction between the two groups.

"As you wish," Dedric replied, disappointment showing in his green eyes. Kayleigh smiled and lowered her head slightly, hoping he would move on to other matters. She hated all of this attention. To her relief, Dedric turned to Arthur and the knights. "Come, my father rests this way," he said as he turned and led the men out of the clearing.

Kayleigh followed the local tribesmen to the stables to board hers and Tristan's horses. After caring for and settling them, she took a stroll around the village. She found it odd that these people that allied themselves with the brutal Saxons showed no hostility towards her, a stranger on their land. _These are not a warring people_, she thought as she watched a group of men and women dancing in a circle. _There must be an underlying reason._

Finally, she found what appeared to be the courtyard. Arthur and the knights were standing before an older man with rusty hair. "I cannot agree to these terms you have proposed," he said in his language as he stood from his cushions beneath an oak tree. Kayleigh concealed herself behind a house unwilling to get involved in the politics of the meeting.

"Sir, if you would allow me to–," Arthur started.

Airell cut him off, raising his hand, "I will not abandon the hopes of my people. If you have come here to ask me to turn my back on my oath you have offended my honor and wasted your time."

"Father, at least let them refresh themselves before sending them off. They've had a long journey," Dedric requested for the guests.

"I have spoke my mind," the leader said before turning and disappearing into his residence.

Dedric stared after his father. Usually he was a generous man, inviting to all strangers, and merciful to his enemies. "I'm sorry," he told Arthur and the knights who looked lost as to what to do. "I think it would be best if you leave."

Arthur turned and started walking out of the courtyard, the knights following behind. Kayleigh tried to move as they came around the corner but she only managed to stand up from her crouched position before getting knocked back down by Lancelot.

"Kayleigh! Are you alright," he asked helping her up. She nodded as they caught up with Arthur. "Where are we going?" Lancelot asked.

"We're leaving," he told them.

"What? We can't leave. How will we fight both them and the Saxons?" Lancelot exclaimed. As soon as Arthur and the knights had met Airell the mood had changed from jovial to leery and by the body language and tones used he knew the meeting hadn't gone well for Arthur.

"The same way we fight the woads," Arthur replied, reaching the stables.

"The woads never opposed us with as great of a force," Lancelot argued.

"We will make camp on the shore tonight and begin our sea journey in the morning," Arthur decided, finalizing his orders.

"Most of us will be making the sea journey," Gawain corrected as he saddled his horse, trying to lighten the mood.

"We'll have a nice warm fire and dry clothes waiting for your arrival back at the fort Galahad," Kayleigh joined in on the teasing.

Galahad gave her a quick fake smile before following Arthur out of the stables and away from the village.


	23. A Side Trip

A/N: As promised, the bishop's carriage. Sorry, couldn't help it. As promised, another chapter with less wait. Remember to review. It keeps my fingers typing.

Zelinia- I just can't help teasing Galahad. It's the easiest way to show Kayleigh's wit and he's an easy target. Some of the language explanation is in this chapter, most of it in the next chapter though.

Cardeia- Sorry, no relaxing for our group. Last chapter had to be light to make up for this one. I hope you like this chapter all the same.

Brandy- I hope this chapter doesn't bore you.

Babaksmiles- Yes, I'm happy about Dedric too. You haven't seen the last of him! Always love your reviews, I hope you like this chapter.

Blarney- I hope I wrote quickly enough for you. Kayleigh can kick ass but knows when it is most beneficial to turn on the womanly charms (most of the time anyway). I'm glad you liked the lighter tone. I wasn't sure if it was too disney or not.

Evenstar- Yes, it can be brutal. But everyone has their reasons, right?

Dellis- Wow, that must have been some marathon reading. It's a miracle I could keep your attention that long. Thanks for your review. More Tristan? I think so too. Ask and you shall receive.

Knight Maiden and Hayley- Nice to hear from you both. Thanks for the reviews. They always help.

* * *

"They aren't a hostile group of people," Kayleigh said suddenly as she absently poked at the campfire. They had made it back to the beach just as the sun was setting. 

"Hostile enough to wage war against us," Galahad commented.

"But why? Have the Britons done anything to offend them, Arthur?" Kayleigh inquired.

"Not that I know of," he replied from across the fire.

"They need farmland," Tristan interjected quietly. He sat just outside the ring of light, leaning against a tree sharpening his sword. The blade reflecting the dancing flames was the only thing visible.

"How do you know that?" Galahad asked impatiently.

"Their crops are overtaken by thickets," he replied without looking up from his work.

"Offer them land," Kayleigh suggested.

Arthur shook his head, "It is not mine to give."

Kayleigh sighed. "That didn't stop Rome from taking it," she said under her breath.

Gawain spoke up, "What I really want to know is how you could understand and speak back to them, Kayleigh."

The knights looked up from what they were doing to await her answer. Her eyes that had initially widened slightly at the question drooped heavily as she faked a yawn. "I traveled with some Celts on the mainland for some time while I searched for my brother," she said before leaning back against a rock and closing her eyes. She hadn't done very well at keeping her privacy so far but she was unwilling to go into this subject any further. The knights acknowledged her attempt to withdraw and respected it, keeping the rest of their questions to themselves.

Despite the damp sand under her and the cold breeze that blew off the sea, Kayleigh had no trouble falling asleep. The last thing she heard was Arthur organizing the watch schedule. Hers was to be the last, right before sunrise.

* * *

She woke to warmth, which made her more reluctant to get up for her shift. A cloth was draped neatly over her shoulders and tucked under her chin. She snuggled up to it, turning onto her back. It smelled of horses and birch trees. Realizing she didn't bring her cloak with her, her eyes shot open to meet Tristan's. 

"You were shivering in your sleep," he gestured toward his jacket that was covering her.

"Thanks," she gave him a smile of gratitude. "You should have woken me earlier." The sky was lightening indicating she had missed her shift to keep watch.

Tristan shrugged, "I was already awake." He stepped over to his saddlebag and removed some grain for his horse, taking an apple for himself. "Besides, you seem to enjoy sleep more than I."

Kayleigh rose and came up behind him, placing his jacket over his shoulders. "Perhaps because I was dreaming of you," she said giving him a kiss on the cheek. He froze stiffly at her words and she smiled upon getting the reaction. She grabbed the apple from his hand, took a bite, and placed it back into his hand.

"I'll get water for the horses back at that stream we crossed yesterday," she told him, gathering some water skins. She shot a glance to him over her shoulder as she walked into the trees.

Tristan furrowed his eyebrows as he thought about what had just occurred. Why did she play such games with him? He turned to see if any of the knights had witnessed the events but they remained sleeping peacefully. As his eyes scanned the ground, they came upon Kayleigh's weapons. He shook his head at her negligence. They are on enemy land and she walks off defenseless, though he knew in the back of his mind she wasn't helpless.

Tristan drew his sword and crept into the woods. Kayleigh caused so much trouble for him he wondered if it would be so bad to leave her on this foreign land. The further into the forest he went, the darker it became. His eyes strained to see. He stopped walking, realizing how quiet it was. No animals scampered across the forest floor. No birds rustled the leaves of the trees. Suddenly his hawk darted down in warning. Tristan's eyes followed and picked out figures hiding in the shadows.

He darted behind a tree just as an arrow flew by. They charged at him then, silently and swiftly. Tristan came out from the shelter, throwing his daggers away into bodies. In two long strides, he met them, swinging his blade and slicing into flesh.

"Tristan, no!"

He faltered momentarily at the sound of his name. It was enough for the enemy to gain the upper hand. A blade sliced into his shoulder. He ignored the pain and held his sword ready for another attack. The men surrounded him. The leader came closer, revealing himself in the dim light. He was tall with fiery hair and heavily armored in thick hardened leather. A large man behind him held Kayleigh fast in his muscular arms. It seemed she had given up long ago trying to free herself.

The leader began barking his language at Tristan. "He does not understand your tongue," Kayleigh tried to explain to him.

"He will understand this," the leader said as he turned and pressed his blade to her throat. Tristan slowly lowered his sword in his right hand to the ground as he secretly moved his left hand to the inside of his boot. His fingers wrapped around the cold hilt of his dagger and he rose quickly, firing it into the air. It found its mark in the leader's arm causing him to release his sword that was at Kayleigh neck. He looked at Tristan for a moment in shock before letting out a low rumble of a laugh. He motioned to his men that surrounded Tristan and they all tackled him at once, knocking him out and tying his hands behind his back.

* * *

"Where are Kayleigh and Tristan?" Dagonet asked Galahad who had his feet firmly planted on the beach. Arthur was overseeing the rest of the knights as they loaded and prepared the ship for sea. 

"They were both gone when I woke. Kayleigh probably went for water. The skins are missing. And Tristan?" Galahad shrugged, "Who knows where he disappears off to?"

It didn't feel right to Dagonet. Why would Kayleigh leave her weapons behind? They are like a part of her. He picked them up and examined them. The craftsmanship was incredible. The artwork on her sword was precise and detailed. He ran a finger down the length of the lightning bolt on the blade. Though it wasn't in the sun or near the fire, it was warm to the touch. He put it back in its sheath.

There had already been an hour of daylight and not a sign of Kayleigh or Tristan. The men grew impatient to return to the fort and end this unsuccessful mission. Dagonet's eyes scanned the ground and came upon two sets of footprints leading into the trees. "They went this way," Dagonet said loud enough for the knights and Arthur to hear him. Cautiously he followed them, partially afraid to find some tragedy at the end and partially afraid of interrupting a private moment.

They stopped at an arrow pierced tree and immediately thought the worst. "Search for them but stay alert," Arthur commanded. The knights spread out, weapons at the ready.

"Arthur," Bors called to his commander. "He must have really been outnumbered." He bent down and lifted Tristan's sword up from underneath the leaves.

"Wonderful," Galahad said sarcastically. "Kayleigh and the scout are missing and we have no tracker to find them."

* * *

Kayleigh had been captured enough times in her life to know that when there was no opportunity for escape, the best thing to do was to cooperate. Unlike Tristan, who was still unconscious and tied stomach down on the back of a horse, she was resting comfortably in a saddle in front of the large man that had held her earlier. She kept her mouth shut until she knew enough about these people to aid in her escape. 

The men were silent, making their way through the woods slowly and quietly. Some rode on horses while others walked. Kayleigh didn't bother trying to count their numbers. It was well past 100 men and she wondered how they hadn't come across them earlier on the mission. Perhaps they had come from a different direction.

In the afternoon, they finally arrived at their destination. A wooden tower rose from the trees before they came into the clearing. A lookout shouted down to them and after identifying themselves, they soon gained permission to advance. Kayleigh turned back, hoping the noise would have woken Tristan but he was still unmoving. She frowned at the thought that he could be seriously injured. Turning forward again she gasped at the sight before her. The land rose to a magnificent stone building. The sun shone off its walls and the size and stature of it radiated with power. Whoever its owner is has to be wealthy and influential.

But as they approached she noticed the same invading plants that had overtaken the other village's crops. Not only was there food missing but also people. They made it into the courtyard by only passing one guard. Kayleigh's hopes soared at the lack of security. Inside they would be spread out and less cautious. There was a better chance of escaping then.

The large man, who was polite enough to introduce himself as Turi during their long ride, helped her down from his horse. The leader gestured to Turi who moved to open the heavy doors of the entrance with a loud creak. The inside was a hundred times worse than the outside. It looked as if it hadn't been cleaned in centuries. Leaves lined the floor and dust covered every exposed area in a thick blanket.

The leader sat down in a chair, one of the few pieces of intact furniture. Kayleigh approached him carefully. "Your wound looks bad," she pointed to the place where Tristan's dagger had embedded itself in his arm. He had long since removed it. "Let me help you."

"Why would you help me?" he asked her suspiciously.

"It would not benefit me to harm you," Kayleigh replied truthfully. She ripped the sleeve off his shirt for a better look. He didn't seem to mind her destruction of his clothing. She cleaned the wound as best as she could and tied the remainder of his sleeve around his arm using it as a bandage. "It will leave a scar," she told him.

"Scars bring glory where I come from," he informed her.

"Even unnecessary ones?" When he didn't reply she explained, "We were leaving this morning by sea. We did not mean to trespass. If you release us, we will leave and never return."

"No," his voice was firm.

"We were with others. They will come for us. It's best to let us go," she warned him.

He laughed but his eyes were stern, "Who will challenge 150 Champions for a bothersome girl and a sleeping man?" Kayleigh glanced at Tristan who had been set in the middle of the floor, hands once again tied behind his back. "Take them downstairs," he commanded.

Kayleigh did not struggle when a young warrior took her by the elbow and led her down some dark stairs. Turi followed, Tristan hanging limply from his shoulder. They made a series of turns through the corridor and came upon a barred door.

Kayleigh was pushed in by her escort and Turi placed Tristan on the cold floor in front of her. As she heard the lock slide into place, she bent down to check on Tristan. After untying his binds, she discovered a lump on the back of his head and a deep cut on his shoulder that had wet that whole side of his shirt with blood. "Turi!" she screamed before he could get too far. Her voice echoed in many directions through the empty building.

She heard footsteps coming back. "He's hurt badly. I need water," she requested with a hint of a plea in her voice.

"Sorry lass," he said helplessly. "When water is available to us, I will see what I can do. Cadell attends to his Champions first. You are only a slave to him."


	24. All is not Lost

A/N: Thanks everyone for the reviews. I really hope you all like this chapter. Sorry if it's a little too mysterious for you. It'll all be revealed next chapter.

* * *

Kayleigh had had enough of diplomatic niceties. It had been hours since her request for water. Tristan's wound still oozed with blood and she feared what effects the blow to his head would have on his already depressed system. "Turi!" she called out, hoping he wasn't too far to hear. After a few minutes of yelling his name, he appeared before the barred door with a torch in hand. "He needs help," she said, gesturing toward Tristan. 

"We have no water but the water you stole from the sacred brook," Turi replied.

"Then give that to me," Kayleigh demanded.

Turi frowned at the suggestion, "Only the blessed have rights to the water."

"And if others use it?" Kayleigh asked cautiously.

"It is a crime against the gods. The punishment is sacrifice of blood," Turi explained grimly.

"There's plenty of blood here," she said pointing to Tristan's wound angrily. "Is that not enough?"

Turi was silent and turned to leave. "And if I'm a blessed one?" Kayleigh asked quickly, desperately.

He laughed at her, "Then I shall sacrifice my blood to you."

"Then open this door and present to me a blade," she ordered.

Turi found her boldness amusing. He stepped closer to the door, "And if I don't?"

Kayleigh rose her right hand, palm out, for him to see. "I will curse you in the name of the thunder god, Taranus. May he strike you down."

* * *

"Dammit Gawain!" Lancelot cursed. "We've passed that tree three times already!" 

"If you think you can do better, be my guest," Gawain snapped, tired from all the complaining. He wasn't a scout after all and the land was foreign to him.

"Can't do any worse," Lancelot argued back.

"Alright! Enough," Arthur intervened. He sat down tiredly, Bors quickly following suit. He glanced around. All of his knights were exhausted. They weren't finding any clues as to where the pair had gone. Their health was uncertain. He could not control that. He could, however, keep his men here from killing each other. "We'll make camp for the night," he decided. Perhaps after some rest their search would be more successful.

* * *

Tristan stretched his aching limbs. He grimaced as a sharp pain shot through his left arm. Remembering the attacks in the woods, he sat up quickly. The room spun and his stomach rebelled. A hand settled on his bare chest and gently pushed him back down onto the soft covers. He squinted his eyes against the invading light that made his head throb. "Kayleigh," his normally smooth voice cracked with dehydration. 

"Shhh," she quieted him. She tilted his head and brought a cup to his lips, "Here. Drink."

He obeyed, choking down a sip of water. "Where are we?"

"Airell's village," she told him.

Tristan waited for an explanation on why they were here, how they got here, but it never came. She only gazed at him with worry in her eyes. "Is it that bad?" he asked finally.

"No," she reached for a damp cloth and dabbed his forehead. "They only nearly split your skull. It's a good thing your head is so dense."

He couldn't help but smirk at her insulting humor. She said many things to keep herself distant during intimate situations such as these. Tristan saw past that.

"The first couple days were rough. With no water, your wound got infected and you developed a fever," she informed him.

"First couple of days?" he hadn't thought he'd been out that long. She nodded. "And the others?" he asked.

"Dedric sent for them at the beach but they were gone," she told him reluctantly, knowing he would want to take action with such news.

He pulled the covers back and sat up. He paled as the blood ran from his face. Kayleigh grasped his arm preventing him from standing. "You are in no condition to be riding off to search for knights that are very well capable of taking care of themselves," she said firmly, pushing him back down into a lying position. He groaned as his sore muscles protested at the sudden movement.

He glared up at her for the rough treatment. She glared back with as much annoyance as he. "Don't make me tie you to this bed," she growled. "Of course, you may like that sort of play too much and wouldn't concentrate on healing." Kayleigh began unwrapping the bandage that bound his wound.

"You would like it just as well. You are the bossy, overbearing type," he said evenly.

She poured water from her waterskin over his arm. "Is that so?" She rubbed some fresh herbs into the cut causing him to take in a sharp breath of air. She glanced at him momentarily before looking up, as if to remember something. "I do recall you saying that there is a fine line between pain and pleasure," she smiled at the fact that she was able to use his words against him.

Tristan looked down to her hands that were gently re-wrapping the wound with a clean cloth and then looked into her face. "Who said I was not enjoying this?" She looked up, startled by his answer, and met his gaze. She was quiet, not knowing how to respond. Is this how Tristan felt when she said startling things just for shock value? Was that what he was doing now? Getting back at her?

He did not smile or laugh as she did upon getting a reaction from him. He only stared at her with his brown, intense eyes. She felt herself getting warm and she was sure her cheeks were flushed. That fact only embarrassed her further.

The door behind Kayleigh swung open and the sound made her jump, her hands slipping off Tristan's arm. "I hope I'm not interrupting," Dedric said as he moved into the room.

"No," Kayleigh replied, more out of courtesy than honesty, as she turned to acknowledge his presence.

"He's still not awake?" Dedric asked, gesturing towards Tristan.

Kayleigh looked at him curiously before turning back to the knight, who now lay calmly with his eyes closed. She was not sure if he was genuinely asleep or just avoiding attention from Dedric. Instead of answering she asked her own question, "Any signs of the other knights?"

Dedric shook his head, "We are still looking."

Kayleigh frowned, "Maybe I should –"

Dedric cut her off, "You have already seen so many troubles these past few days. Why don't you take a break? Go join the villagers and relax."

"But," Kayleigh started.

"Nothing," Dedric interjected, helping her up from her seat. "You must also take care of yourself. Don't worry. I'll have my healers attend to him."

She was about to object but the thought of being interrupted again made the idea seem pointless. After taking one last look at Tristan, she dragged her feet through the door. It had been three days since she had eaten anything. The hunger pains were growing more difficult to ignore. A plate of food from the villager's festival and a drink sounded heavenly to Kayleigh.

The villagers generously filled her plate with meat, bread, and fruit as she entered the courtyard. "You look thirsty," a man said as he placed a mug of spiced beer in her hand. She nodded, her mouth full. "Name's Bevyn," the young, cheerful man said.

She swallowed quickly, "Kayleigh."

"Well, Kayleigh," Bevyn said with a slight twinkle in his eye, "Food isn't free. It doesn't grow easily here." Kayleigh gulped down another bite nervously. "Can you sing?" he asked with a grin on his face. Kayleigh shook her head. "Then it sounds like you'll be dancing."

She reached for her cup, "I'll need a lot more to drink." Bevyn let out a hearty laugh and jumped atop the table, pulling Kayleigh up with him. He motioned for the musicians to start up a lively tune.

* * *

"They've already left," Lancelot confirmed. They had searched the rundown stronghold top to bottom. 

"Arthur," Dagonet called to his commander. Arthur stepped outside, stopping at Dagonet's side. "Tracks."

"They don't seem concerned about being followed," Galahad observed.

"Six knights would not worry many leaders of great armies," Gawain commented.

"We're wasting time," Lancelot said in annoyance while mounting his steed.

"Right, you've got a lady to rescue, valiant knight," Galahad said sarcastically under his breath.

"Move out," Arthur yelled, directing his galloping horse onto the path the small army had taken just hours before.

It wasn't long into the afternoon before they heard jovial music drifting through the trees. The knights slowed their horses and looked at each other, all coming to the same conclusion. "What will we do Arthur? They've already made it clear we aren't welcome in their village," Lancelot questioned.

"First let's be sure it's the same village before jumping to conclusions. Kayleigh and Tristan may not even be here," Arthur deducted.

"We may have followed the wrong tracks," Gawain offered.

"Like hell," Lancelot exclaimed angrily. He had seen the way the leader's son had looked at Kayleigh.

Arthur shot him a warning glance as they crept up to the trees bordering the clearing of the village. The images they were met with made their jaws drop in shock. Kayleigh danced with spirit atop a table, one arm laced around a man's arm. Her opposite hand held up a cup, the liquid barely contained inside as the movement made it slosh up and over the brim.

"She doesn't look in need of rescue," Gawain stated after a moment of recovery.

Bors laughed, "That's the happiest prisoner I've ever seen!"

At that point, Kayleigh tripped over her own feet and fell back onto her rear flat on the table. The man next to her stopped dancing and snaked an arm around her waist, lifting her back up. They continued dancing but his arm remained.

"That's enough," Lancelot stormed forward from their hiding place.

"Lancelot," Arthur hissed, demanding that he come back. The knight was deaf to everything but the music and Kayleigh's drunken laughter.

He reached the table and pulled her down. "Lancelot!" she exclaimed. "I was so worried about you." She threw her arms around him.

"I can see that," he said through gritted teeth. After all this time spent looking for her and Tristan and they were having a grand time, eating, drinking, and dancing. Arthur and the other knights joined them and the music halted.

"Everyone, this is Lancelot," Kayleigh said to the crowd. "Isn't he the most beautiful man you've ever seen?" She moved to kiss him but in her drunk ness missed, kissing only the corner of his mouth.

Bors and Gawain could barely contain their snickers as Lancelot grasped her shoulders and pulled her away from him. "What did they give to you?"

"Where's Tristan," Arthur asked. His improvised plan was to get the two of them and make a fast escape. So far they hadn't been discovered by any of their warriors and he hoped it stayed that way.

Upon hearing Tristan's name, Kayleigh instantly turned somber. She shook her head to clear the fog in her mind. "He is here," she said, leading them to the building she had left him at. She opened the door to find Tristan in the same spot, eyes closed. Guilt engulfed her. She should have been by his side in his pain, instead of outside merry making.

Crossing the room, one of the healers stepped in front of her. "Out of the way," she commanded. "Get out! All of you!" she yelled, taking the anger she felt for herself out on them. They scurried past the knights and into the hallway. "I'm sorry," she whispered to Tristan.

"You smell like you had a good time," he whispered back to her, not moving from his place or opening his eyes.

Kayleigh frowned, "You faker."

"What did you bring back for me," he asked quietly.

The fact that she hadn't even thought of him during her time of splurging only made the guilt set in deeper. The knights stood back and watched silently. Though they could not hear what was being said, it was obvious the two had grown closer in their short period of captivity.

"I was going to forgive you, but now . . . " Tristan finally opened his eyes and saw his audience. "Took you long enough."

"Sorry for the delay," Lancelot said, turning to glare at Gawain, "We got lost."

Gawain sighed, "What was I to do? Ask the trees for directions?"

"That's what I do," Tristan said as he sat up in bed and put his shirt on.

"The Scotts must have damaged something in your head when they knocked you out," Bors said.

Tristan swung his legs out to the side of the bed and began putting his boots on. Kayleigh knew better than to try to restrict his actions in front of the other men. Instead, Arthur said what she was thinking. "Are you well enough to travel," he asked.

Tristan nodded and stood up steadily, not showing any signs of weakness. His eyes appeared out of focus for a moment and Kayleigh struggled to restrain herself from moving to his side to help. She knew his honor would be bruised if she did so.

They made their way out of the building onto the street. Their luck with avoiding officials ran out when they saw the path to their horses was blocked by Cadell and a small group of his champions. "Where do you think you're going?"

"We are going back to Britain," Arthur told him.

Cadell huffed, "You may. They cannot," he said gesturing toward Tristan and Kayleigh.

"I'm not leaving them behind," Arthur said in a determined voice.

Cadell ignored him. "These are the others you spoke of," he addressed Kayleigh. She nodded. The knights beside her heard the hostility in his voice and had their hands on their weapons. "They look like well enough fighters, but they are no match for my champions."

"None of your champions could best them," she told him confidently.

The leader's lips gave into a small smile. "We will settle this the Scotts way since you have intruded on the Scotts land," he said. Kayleigh raised an eyebrow in intrigue. "Your knight of choice fights my champion of choice. The prize for the winning side is the silent knight and you, my lady."

"And the losing side?" Arthur asked cautiously.

"Will be digging a grave for their fallen warrior," Cadell said grimly.

Arthur and Kayleigh looked at each other, both weighing the costs and benefits of such a risky endeavor. "What did he say?" Gawain asked at their silence.

"One of ours fights one of theirs for Tristan and Kayleigh," he gave the short version.

"So what are we waiting for?" Bors asked impatiently.

"It's a duel to the death," Kayleigh informed them.

"Isn't every fight?" Lancelot asked with a smirk on his face.

Cadell coughed loudly to get their attention. "While you've been deliberating, I've chosen my champion," he said as he moved and a young man stepped before them.

Kayleigh recognized the man as the one that had given her the drink and had spent the afternoon dancing with her. He couldn't have been older than Galahad but still he did not seem concerned with his situation. "Bevyn."

He gave her a lopsided smile, "Such a sweet prize to win!"

Kayleigh looked disapprovingly at the leader's choice. "He's drunk!" she exclaimed. Of course, it would give the knights an upper hand and she wanted them to win but how could his leader be so cruel as to send the intoxicated man to his death?

Cadell smiled proudly, "He fights better drunk than sober."

Lancelot grasped Arthur's shoulder, "Let me fight for you."

"No," Arthur denied his request. "I brought us here. I will bring us all back home."

"And if you do not succeed? You are a Roman commander. You are needed. Nobody would miss a Sarmatian knight." Arthur considered a moment. "Besides, if I can't beat this drunk bastard I deserve to die!" This made Arthur and knights chuckle and Arthur reluctantly receded.

By then they had an audience encircling them and they watched on with excited curiosity. Lancelot drew his two swords and approached Bevyn who raised his spear in return. It was a spectacular sight to see. Lancelot's swords glinted in the sunlight as he slashed and jabbed at the younger man. Bevyn was quick to react, blocking blows with either end of his spear and having seconds to launch his own attacks. As Bevyn ducked beneath one of Lancelot's assaults, he brought the blunt end of his spear against Lancelot's knees, causing him to fall to the ground.

Kayleigh had grasped Galahad's shoulder in nervous anticipation in the beginning of the battle. Now her nails dug into his skin and he had to peel her claws out of him as Bevyn brought the point of his spear down toward Lancelot. The blow just missed his head as he rolled to the side. The move was Bevyn's fatal error, for the land was moist and the spearhead stuck fast in the mud. He stood unmoving as Lancelot brought the tip of his sword to his throat.

Cadell could not believe he had been beat. The champions around them shifted nervously on their feet. Kayleigh started to wonder if these men would honor their word. She had no doubt that Lancelot would kill this man. He had killed many men that had no argument with him. This was just another. As he held one sword to the man's neck, he brought the other back to deal the final blow.

Kayleigh could not allow such a senseless death, "Don't!"

* * *

Evil laugh. Sorry guys, another cliffy. Review! 


	25. Stretching the Truth

A/N: So sorry for the delay. This chapter won't even begin to make up for it. Maybe next chapter, the big battle. Replies to reviews below.

* * *

"You can't kill him!" Kayleigh exclaimed. 

"Why not?" Lancelot asked, the point of his sword digging into the skin of the young warrior's neck. It seemed like the simplest solution to their problems to him.

"He has done nothing wrong," she cried. She knew the Sarmatian knights were forced to kill men that had done them no wrong but this was different. She had spent time with this man, enjoyed his company. He had a love for life that she had never seen before, and yet he was unafraid to die.

"You have done nothing wrong! Tristan has done nothing wrong!" Lancelot shot back at her.

"No, Tristan hadn't until he attacked them in the forest. It was I who broke their law," Kayleigh clarified.

"What law?" Arthur asked. This may not be the best time to discuss it but he knew if the opportunity passed, he would never get her to openly explain. He would only get another vague answer from her.

"I took water from their sacred brook," Kayleigh said, regretting that whole morning. She had acted childishly and made a fool of herself in front of Tristan. Now they all were paying for it.

"That's it?" Lancelot asked. "Why not just give it back?"

"Because I used it on Tristan," she said. That was the one thing she didn't regret doing in the past few days.

Bevyn saw his opportunity as they were distracted and ducked under Lancelot's blade, tackling him. Lancelot's swords slipped from his loosened grip and scattered across the ground. He moved to draw his dagger from his boot but Bevyn had already drawn his own and was preparing to bear down on the fallen knight.

"No!" Kayleigh yelled stepping between them, holding her hand out before her in a gesture to halt him. Bevyn stepped back sharply and a murmur went through the crowd.

Kayleigh had purposely raised her right hand, displaying the zig-zagging scar down the palm. Though she dreaded doing it, it was only solution she saw to the predicament they were in.

Of the Celts that knew the meaning of the symbol, Turi was the only one not surprised by its revelation. Kayleigh had sworn him to secrecy in the stronghold after he had retrieved the water she requested. He had a lot of power and influence for being second in command. She was sure his shear size had something to do with that. Nobody second guessed his actions. Even when they came to Airell's village to join the other Champions, his order to provide Kayleigh and Tristan with a private room wasn't questioned.

Now the knights looked from Kayleigh to each other in confusion. They didn't see any importance to the strangely shaped scar. Tristan went back in his head to the past few months he had spent with Kayleigh. Why hadn't he noticed it before? In all his memories of her, he found she always had her arms crossed or her hands balled into fists. He only waved that off as a tense reaction to the situations she had been put into. When she gradually began to wear her leather riding gloves increasingly often, he shrugged it off as her attempt to hide wounds dealt to her by Brogan.

"The only one I belong to is the god that blessed me with his mark. As such, I have rights to the water and you can hold no charges against me or anyone I choose to give the water to," Kayleigh said in a stern voice, looking through the crowd. She stood silently waiting for a challenge that never came.

Bevyn put his dagger away and Lancelot retrieved his swords as Airell was withdrawn from his residence by the unusually sudden silence of the village. "What is happening here?" he asked. As his eyes met Arthur's, Airell turned three shades of red, "I thought I asked you to leave."

"You did," Arthur confirmed, "and we wouldn't have come back if your Champions hadn't kidnaped two of my people."

Airell then turned to Cadell, "Is this true?"

"Yes, m'lord," Cadell slightly bowed his head. "My apologies. I was not aware you had met with them. I did not know who she was."

"She?" Airell asked, noting how Cadell said it as if 'she' were of great importance. The leader followed his people's stares at Kayleigh. He looked her up and down. "Who is she?" he asked the warrior.

"'She' has a name," Kayleigh said, annoyed. "It's Kayleigh."

"She–Kayleigh," Cadell quickly corrected himself, "bears the blessing of Taranus."

Galahad was getting impatient for a translation. "What's going on Arthur?" he asked. Gawain had moved to look over Kayleigh's shoulder as Airell inspected her hand.

"She told them she was blessed by their god and had rights to the water," he said to his knights. Lancelot could not help but laugh outright. There was no way she could be blessed with all the bad luck that came with her.

"Forgive our misunderstandings," Airell told Kayleigh and Arthur. "You and your knights may stay as long as needed."

"Thank you," Arthur said, "but we must get back home. We have a war to prepare for."

"Yes," Airell said, "that is unfortunate."

"It does not have to be," Kayleigh put in.

The leader shook his head, "As much as I would regret going to battle against one with Taranus on her side, it must be done. The deal has been struck. I have given my word."

Kayleigh nodded understandingly. "I know how much you value promises. That is why I feel compelled to inform you that the Saxons have broken their's with you."

"What is this you speak of?" Cadell demanded, his face becoming flushed with anger.

"The Saxons have already begun claiming land in Britain. They have no intentions of sharing the land with you or they would have awaited your arrival," Kayleigh informed them.

It grew quiet as the Scotts thought over her comments. Airell looked at Arthur to confirm what Kayleigh had said.

"It is true. Nearly two months ago we gathered arms to drive them off the land," Arthur said as he quickly caught up with Kayleigh's plan.

"Come," Airell said, "let us discuss this further inside." Airell, Cadell, and Turi led the way followed by Arthur, Kayleigh, and the knights.

"Arthur, what's going on now?" Galahad asked once again.

Arthur ignored the question and shot one of his own at Kayleigh, "What are you doing?"

"I'm doing what we set out to do in the first place, convince the Scotts to ally with us," she told them.

"This isn't a game," Arthur whispered harshly to her. "You're going to get us all killed with this talk about being blessed by gods."

Kayleigh let a small laugh escape her lips, "Their gods are as real to them as your god is to you. How do you know their gods don't exist? Just because you don't believe in them doesn't make them any less real to these people."

"She's preaching to the wrong crowd," Galahad whispered to Gawain, who elbowed him to shut him up. "What? Romans think that just because we don't believe in their god that we're faithless savages." Galahad hated when Romans called him pagan. What made their religion the right one? Arthur had been the only one who hadn't looked down on him for it. He had never forced his religion onto Galahad.

"You're using their beliefs against them," Arthur accused.

Kayleigh shrugged. "They can believe what they want. You can believe what you want," she added as they entered the great hall of Airell's residence.

A large wooden table dominated the center of the room. Many chairs lined the sides of the table and Kayleigh guessed there was one for each of his Champions. It was engraved with many knots that intertwined with each other. From the walls hung lines of royal tapestries. On each was embroidered a battle scene in fine details.

"They are beautiful," Kayleigh commented as she studied a particular scene. Dozens of charioteers drove through the defending army, spears raised, but they seemed to pass straight through them without inflicting any damage.

"Ah, yes," Airell agreed as he joined her in gazing upon the tapestry. "All are battles this old tribe has fought. Some of these handed down from father to son for hundreds of years. This one you look at is the oldest. These men," he pointed to the charioteers, "are our ancestors, bravely facing their foes. Of course, they did not know of the curse laid on the land."

"Curse?" Kayleigh raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Aye, the gods had taken hold of that land in the north, the Fog Lands, to torment the souls of dishonorable men. Men that lie, steal, and profit from the pain of others are sentenced there for eternity. These spirits, the Innish, exact their revenge on any man that enter their territory using their otherworldly powers," Airell explained.

"You did not come out victorious then?" Kayleigh asked. It was a great story and she made a mental note to herself to translate it for the knights later.

"Oh, we lost many men and took no gains, but we learned a great moral lesson and those that died did so gloriously," he smiled at her and gestured for them all to sit as he took the seat at the head of the table.

"The Saxons came to our land a year ago to conquer my land and people. That crumbling building you made camp in used to be my resident stronghold, stable and impenetrable," Airell told Kayleigh. She sat near the far end of the table, quietly trying to keep the knights in touch with what was happening. With politics once again taking center stage, she was glad to let Arthur deal with it.

"We made war with them for ten days. Each battle would have a different outcome but neither army took the upper hand. We were at an impasse. Finally on the eleventh day, we drew terms. We needed better land. Our people were growing hungry. The Saxon also needed land for expansion. They had been planning an invasion of Britain for some time but did not have the numbers to take on the furthest part of the Roman Empire. Impressed by our strength and skill as warriors, they agreed to reserve a percentage of the land to us in exchange for our services in their attacks of the island," Airell explained.

"It seems the percentage they intend to give you is zero," Arthur said, getting to the point.

Having finally translated to the knights what Airell had said, Kayleigh chipped in unceremoniously, "They are using you as pawns."

The leader quickly began to look tired and he called for a glass of ale between a fit of coughs. Dedric appeared from the hallway with the mug in his hand. "Kayleigh? Arthur? What are you doing back here?" he asked surprised. He handed his father the drink and sat next to him, opposite Arthur.

"Long story," Kayleigh replied, giving him a smile. Lancelot's countenance immediately grew dark at the sight of Dedric. She explained to him the situation with the Saxons.

Finally, Airell regained his breath, "They've made fools of us, my son."

"Then we must regain our honor," Dedric replied, then threw a devilish grin Kayleigh's way. "We have let them get away from us once, we need not let them get away again. We know where they will be. We know their strategies and weaknesses."

His father was beginning to warm up to the idea. Arthur decided to promote the benefits of joining them, "If they conquer Britain, they will have a launching ground to attack your lands. If they don't succeed, we will always stand between them and you."

"Rome is a powerful ally to have," Dedric whispered to his father.

Kayleigh knew they still needed something to push him over to their cause. "Those barbarians are probably laughing at you behind their backs, so proud of themselves that they have outwitted the great Scotts. They come over here and desecrate your land, kill your brothers, make false promises to you, and they believe they have gotten away with it. Are you going to sit back and let them believe the Scotts are cowards, or will you seek your revenge?"

By now Airell's face was red with anger. He slammed his fist down on the table, causing the droopy eyed Bors to jump slightly, "We will avenge the fallen and regain our honor! If I die, it will be gloriously and with purpose!"

* * *

Cardeia- I hope this chapter answered some of your questions. I also really liked those two parts from last chapter. I love those Kayleigh/Tristan interactions but it's so hard to keep him in character and have him talk and reveal feelings at the same time. So they will be few and far in between but hopefully really good. 

Brandy- Sorry I haven't reviewed to your story. I lost it among the others. I hope it's going well and you've been getting more inspired than I am. I check it out soon.

Evenstar- I hope you don't hate the Scotts too much. They'll be sticking around for a bit.

SpectralLady- It's okay that it took you awhile to review because it took me longer to update. Sorry 'bout that.

Wild Woman- Cool name. Thanks for the comments. I can't believe you read the whole thing in one sitting! You should get a reward or something. I'm glad you like my little story that has become quite long. I had thought about being a journalist a long time ago but I just respect others' privacy too much. :-P

To everyone else that reviewed, thanks so much. It keeps me going, even if it is slowly.


	26. Two Deceived

A/N: Sorry, there are no replies to individual reviews this time. It would take another month for me to post for that and I figured you'd rather just read the story anyway. But I really do appreciate any comments and take all ideas and criticisms into consideration. I'm amazed with all the new readers sitting through 25 chapters of straight reading and with all of you have stuck with this story. I hope you (and I) have a long attention span, because it's not close to over.

* * *

By nightfall, Arthur, Airell, and Cadell had formed a battle plan to defeat the imposing Saxons. The knights were shown to their quarters after a light meal. Arthur received his own room at the far end of the hall. Kayleigh also got her own room opposite Arthur. The knights were split into two rooms. Lancelot, Gawain, and Galahad sharing a room next to Kayleigh's, Tristan, Dagonet, and Bors settled in the room beside their brothers-in-arms. 

Dedric apologized for the cramped arrangements but his father's 200 Champions also needed lodging and invited them to partake in the village's celebrations that night. And so, in courtesy, they went outside to join in the drinking and games.

Kayleigh spotted Dedric, Turi, and Bevyn seated at a table and approached them. "May I join you," she asked them in their language.

"I wouldn't dream of turning down the company of such an enchanting beauty as yourself, Lady Kayleigh," Dedric replied with a charming smile.

Kayleigh blushed slightly as she sat down next to Bevyn. "I don't want to make you feel unwelcome here, but why have you chosen to sit with us instead of Arthur and his knights," he asked curiously.

She glanced across the crowded courtyard to the table where they sat drinking quietly. Galahad glanced up and their eyes met. She could almost see the questions swirling around in his head. She dreaded the long trip home. Turning back, she shrugged at Bevyn's question.

"How did you come to be here, on this island with the knights," Turi asked.

Kayleigh began to grow uncomfortable. If she wanted an interrogation, she would have sat with the knights instead. "I discovered the Saxon's plans to overrun Britain," she answered.

Dedric raised an eyebrow. "You did," he asked skeptically. She nodded. "How?"

"That is a story I do not wish to relive in the telling," she replied.

"Would you at least tell us how a woman came about being assigned the tasks of a spy in the Roman military," Dedric asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.

"I am as capable as any Roman soldier," she said defensively.

"Of course you are," Dedric replied unbelievingly.

Kayleigh rose her chin slightly, "Where I come from women and men fight side by side in battle."

"But the Romans do not practice that," Turi pointed out.

"The knights come from my land as well," Kayleigh explained.

"Ah," Dedric nodded his head, "that's it, isn't it? It's the scout." Kayleigh's eyebrows came together in confusion. "You are accepted among them because you belong to him."

"What," Kayleigh shrieked. "I belong to no one! I am my own person!"

Dedric frowned, "I only meant–"

"Oh, I know what you meant," she exclaimed. She stood up suddenly, the chair falling away. "You believe in controlling women for your own purposes."

"No, I –"

"I make my own decisions. I am free to come and go as I chose," her voice had raised to a yell and the crowd had quieted watching the scene. The knights watched from the table cautiously. Kayleigh turned on her heel and fled out of anger and embarrassment.

Dedric was up and around the table in a second, "Kayleigh, wait." He caught her by the wrist causing her to swing around to face him.

Her stare burned into him fiercely and her jaw twitched with tension, "Let go of me."

"Just let me explain," he pleaded with a hint of irritation leaking through his words. He reached out with his other hand to grasp her shoulder but something in her eyes made him stop. They were wild, angry, and terrified at the same moment, like a beast cornered in the hunt.

She yanked her arm free and ran to her room, leaving him dumbfounded in the street. Turning to rejoin his comrades, he almost ran square into Tristan, who had been standing near protectively. He didn't know what they had said for he did not understand the Scott's native tongue, but he knew that he didn't like the way the leader's son had grabbed Kayleigh.

Dedric put his hands up in gesture that he meant no harm. Tristan continued glaring at him for a moment more before going after Kayleigh, clipping Dedric's shoulder with his own as he passed.

* * *

Tristan opened the door to Kayleigh's room. She was pacing the floor and stopped when she saw him. "Do we not knock anymore," she questioned. He did not answer as he shut the door behind him. "What do you want Tristan?" 

"I think we've all seen enough emotional displays from you for the day," he said as he leaned against the back of the door.

"Without one of those 'emotional displays' you would be fighting against 200 Champions instead of along side them," she reminded him.

"And in the same day you're close to putting us back where we started," he told her. "What was that all about," he gestured with his head toward the courtyard.

"That arrogant son of a . . . " she let out a frustrated cry. "He thought you and I . . . " Kayleigh paused, replaying Dedric's comments in her mind, causing her to become more angry. Tristan raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to finish her sentence. Instead, she snatched a pillow from the bed and flung it at a chair. "I belong to no one," she snarled, teeth clenched.

He did not understand. Did she still feel obligated to his commander? "Your debt to Arthur is paid, so why are you still here," he asked bluntly.

Kayleigh's body grew stiff at the question and he realized too late that those were the wrong words to use. He was not a fancy speaker like Lancelot or diplomatic like Arthur. He did what he was there to do and nothing more. He did his job and reported his findings. Now he wished he had some tiny sliver of their social skills.

"Kayleigh," he approached her but was stopped by her hand on his chest.

"No," she said ferociously. _If he doesn't know now why I'm here, he'll never know_, she thought. _Then tell him_, a small voice in her head said. She shook her head. _He wants me gone. He'll have his wish._

He watched as her mind battled with itself to come up with a response. Her eyes were filled with anger, then softened. He thought for a moment he saw tears in her eyes until anger won out and she hardened up again.

"I'm here to finish what I started. After the battle with the Saxons, I'm gone. You can go back to living your cowardly life," she said vehemently.

"What," he said, unsure that he had heard her right.

"You valiantly stare death in the face but when it comes to living, you're a coward," she spat. "Yes, a coward," she repeated, insulting him again. "You run from life, never staying around long enough to finish a conversation, leaving before anyone can understand what you've said. You hide in the shadows, always watching the world around you, but never participating. That is not living. You are not afraid of dying because you are already dead!"

Before he knew what he was doing, he had grabbed her and thrown her against the wall, holding her there by her throat. "Do not speak of things you know nothing about," Tristan whispered harshly.

"I know of death," she informed him.

"But you do not know me. I am not to be toyed with," he warned, his voice low and threatening.

"And you do not know me," Kayleigh came back.

Still, he held her against the wall with a firm grip. "Do you enjoy hurting me, Tristan," she asked in a steady tone.

What she said, and the way she had said it; calmly, without anger or fear, startled him. He pulled his hand away quickly as if he had touched hot coals. He backed away slowly before he turned and left, leaving Kayleigh alone in the room.

* * *

Tristan entered his room and slammed the door behind him. It had been a long time since he had felt this enraged and even longer since he had acted upon it. He was angry at her and angry at himself for losing control. What right did she have calling him a coward? She didn't know how many battles he had fought, how many men he had killed. 

He is not unafraid of death because he is dead, but because death brings honor and glory. What else did he have to leave behind in his wake? He has no offspring, no family. Her proclamation that he was not of the living was closest to the truth than any of her comments. For almost fifteen years his purpose was to defend an empire he despised. What kind of life was that? It wasn't one. But when Kayleigh came to Badon Hill, each day he felt more enlivened.

He sat down and began sharpening his sword. "The way you're going about that, your sword will be in slivers."

Tristan ignored Dagonet and tested the sharpness of the blade against his thumb. It drew blood which Tristan examined, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. With as much blood that he had seen spilt, it still fascinated him. How could this same red liquid be so vital to the living body yet so meaningless outside of it?

Satisfied with his work, Tristan returned his sword to its sheath and placed it beside his bed.

"What troubles you?" Dagonet asked as he tried to get comfortable on his own bed. "Kayleigh?"

Tristan huffed, "When does she not trouble me?"

Dagonet smiled despite himself, "She does have spirit."

"Spirit of a demon," Tristan mumbled.

* * *

The knights had retired early to their quarters. They had only stayed at the Scott's celebration as long as courtesy required. The next morning brought their departure back to Britain and they needed all the rest they could get before the big battle. 

Lancelot lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Among listening to Gawain snoring and Galahad talking in his sleep, he was kept awake by the warning bells in his head. He didn't trust the Scotts, especially the leader's son, Dedric.

Lancelot rejected the idea that he disliked the man because his charming skills exceeded his own. He also put the idea of being jealous of him out of his mind. Kayleigh responded well to Dedric's flirtations, unlike his own, but that was just politics, right? He had fun with Kayleigh but being in a relationship with her would be more work than he was willing to do.

He rolled over in bed, turning his back to his noisy roommates. Lancelot decided he didn't like Dedric because of the way the Scotts switched sides so easily. He didn't trust that their loyalties were truly with Arthur. He shook his head against the pillow and closed his eyes. They would find out soon enough.

Suddenly, he sat up in bed listening into the night. He could hear faint yelling amongst the snores. Throwing away the covers, Lancelot stood, retrieved his sword, and crept into the hallway. The clatter came from behind Kayleigh's door. Lancelot grasped the door knob and flung the door open, blade at the ready. He expected to find her being attacked by Scotts.

Instead, he found the room disheveled and empty. Grabbing the torch from the hallway, he entered cautiously. The bed sheets were balled up at the foot of the bed and a pillow was strewn on the floor. As he stepped further into the room, a figure darted out from the shadows tackling him, knocking his sword and torch from his hands and air from his lungs. They rolled around the floor each trying to gain the upper hand. Finally, Lancelot had his attacker pinned beneath him.

Then she laughed. It was a bitter, heartless laugh.

"Kayleigh?" his voice was filled with surprise as he pulled back from her.

She rose to her knees trying to catch her breath. "Do it," she said. "Kill me."

Lancelot tilted his head at her request. He picked up the torch and brought it closer to her face. Her eyes were glazed over, her stare floating across the room as if watching someone who wasn't there.

"Go ahead," she continued. "You've already killed my brother. Nothing can hurt me any more."

"Kayleigh," he grasped her shoulder, "it's Lancelot."

She threw it aside, "Do it or I swear you and your damned Roman citizens will regret it."

Lancelot glanced around the room. It didn't feel right listening to her side of the conversation in the state she was in. It was eavesdropping in the most debased way. He closed the door to prevent others from waking before he returned to her side.

"Kayleigh," he shook her, "wake up."

She pushed him away then charged at him. Lancelot quickly stepped to the side to avoid her blow. A muffled yelp escaped her lips as she slammed into the wall. It only took a few seconds for her to recover and turn on Lancelot again. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the dressings from the bed and threw it over her, successfully entrapping her. Not wanting her to hurt herself, he encircled his arms around her as she fought. Finally, she grew still and sank to the ground.

Lancelot quickly ripped the sheets from her, afraid he had hurt her. He released a sigh of relief when he discovered her chest rising and falling with breath. Gently, he picked her up and placed her on the bed. Sitting in a chair near her bed, he decided to stay with her through the night. The last thing she needed was someone taking advantage of her in her vulnerable condition.

* * *

Tristan's mind wandered as he groomed his horse. He had woken early, before the sun had risen and snuck out to the stables. There, he was happy to find his horse well fed and uninjured. He shook his head. It was just like Arthur to bring along Tristan's and Kayleigh's horses with him in hopes of saving them from those who took them. 

The door to the stables creaked and Tristan's eyes squinted at the sight of Dedric. Tristan put the brush down and stepped possessively before his horse. Dedric gave him an uneasy smile and said something in his language that Tristan could not understand. He came closer, looking at the horse behind Tristan and gave an approving nod. Then he moved to another stall, waving Tristan over. Again, he said something in his native tongue, pointing to the horse and then to himself. Tristan examined the horse he understood to be Dedric's, running a hand over its flank. It was a fine black mare, strong and sturdy. He gave his own approving nod.

They stood there for a moment in uncomfortable silence, neither being able to communicate efficiently, and only one with a desire to. Finally, Dedric raised his hand slightly before turning and walking out of the stables.

Tristan returned to his horse and threw a blanket over its back. His mind turned to the memories of last night. He was not himself and neither was Kayleigh. They had fed off each other's emotions until both were out of control. A pang of regret shot through his stomach. He didn't want her to see Brogan whenever she looked at him.

He gave the horse one last pat before heading toward the guest rooms. As he entered the hall, all thoughts of what he was about to say were lost. He watched as Kayleigh stepped from her room. He did not expect to see her smiling and the fact that she wasn't still angry gave him hope. Tristan stopped dead in his tracks when Lancelot came into view behind her. His heart hardened as he stepped into the shadows to watch.

"I hope I don't become just another notch in your bedpost," Kayleigh joked as Lancelot closed her door behind them.

"Of course not, Kayleigh," Lancelot chuckled as he began to lead her toward the courtyard, "I don't have an empty space for another notch." She laughed aloud and he added, "I don't think I'll soon be forgetting last night, notch or not."

Kayleigh smiled and turned toward Lancelot, stopping him. "Thank you," she said as she hugged him, then drew back and kissed his cheek.

"Maybe I'll just take you home with me," he said with a wink.

"You better," she cried. "I'm not staying here." She laced her arm through his as they exited the building.

Tristan watched as they left together. He stood there, static and tense, until he heard conversation coming from the other knight's room. The last thing he wanted was company. Turning, he straightened himself before striding away.


	27. Away Home

Kayleigh had slowly drifted back into consciousness as morning broke. Sensing a presence in the room, her hand slowly crept beneath her pillow to find her dagger missing.

"It's not there," a voice told her from across the room.

"Lucky for you," she said, sitting up in bed to face him.

Lancelot gave her a half smirk as he crossed the room and handing her weapon to her. "I was afraid you would hurt yourself during the night."

She gave him a quizzical look.

"You were having nightmares," he explained. "But they seemed more than that."

Kayleigh fell back into the pillows, the memories of her nightmares last night flooding her mind. He was right, they were more than just nightmares, they were real. She worked hard to bury memories of her past deep within her, to forget all that had happened. Dedric struck a superficial cord within her with his assumptions that she belonged to someone. It brought back memories of the past to haunt her in her sleep.

"Yes," she confirmed as she sat up again. Unsure of which part of her life he had walked in on and witnessed, she kept quiet. She did not want to reveal any more than she already had.

"You spoke to me as if I were another, your brother's murderer," he went on.

Kayleigh rose from the bed, busying herself with the small tasks of morning as Lancelot confessed her terrors from last night.

"You asked me to kill you," he said slowly, confused by her reactions to what he was saying. She acted as if he wasn't even there speaking to her. She patted her face dry with a cloth beside the wash basin.

"You tried to kill me," Lancelot told her, his voice rising slightly in annoyance.

She picked up a toothed comb and started working it through her hair. "I'm sorry," she stated casually.

"What's going on," he demanded, ripping the comb from her hand and turning her toward him. She stared at him but didn't budge from her composed appearance.

Lancelot sighed, his shoulders slumped and head hung. Trying a different approach, he led her to sit on the bed and brought the chair close, sitting across from her. He took her hands in his. "Kayleigh," he began, his voice gentle and soothing, "I was worried for you."

She adverted her eyes from his, guilt seeping into her heart. He was sincerely concerned about her. It was a rare thing to find in this world, she had been to enough places and met enough people to know that. Now she was seeing a different side of Lancelot that she didn't think existed. Perhaps he was one she could trust.

"I am sorry," she said, this time meaning it. "These waking dreams, they do not happen often. And you are right. They are more than dreams. They are my memories. They have already passed. The days I most try to forget come back to my mind in the night."

Lancelot nodded, "Why last night? Did it have something to do with the argument between you and Dedric?" he asked suspiciously, disliking the Scott more by the minute. Apart from keeping an eye on Kayleigh, he spent the night trying to figure out what they had been fighting about.

Kayleigh knew her episode was partly an effect of that, though she did not want to admit it to Lancelot. It would only lead to more questions about her sudden independent streak. She also knew that her fight with Tristan only wound her tighter. It was a matter of time before she came undone. But there was another reason, one that went deeper.

"The words I said last night were the same I spoke a year ago. It was the day my brother died. When the Romans took him the day they slaughtered my tribe, they realized his health was too poor for knight training. A hunting accident had left his leg useless. They made him a messenger in the Roman army but soon discovered his gift for racing," she smiled remembering his happiness on a horse. He always said it felt like flying.

"They thought him more useful for entertainment of the masses at the Circus in Rome, racing horses and chariots. He was the best, never losing a race. Everyone loved him. But Pervidius, a man coming from a great line of charioteers, grew envious of my brother's success. By no great coincidence, my brother's last race was to be against Pervidius.

"My brother took the lead early but half way through the horses began acting strangely. They beat their bodies against each other and tossed their heads wildly. They tripped over the air causing my brother's chariot to sway uncontrollably until it tipped, catching him beneath it. He was dragged across the track until the turn of the horses freed his body. Pervidius continued on, his horses trampling my brother's body. He claimed he did not see the 'accident', as it was ruled." She cut herself off there, keeping her vengeful actions thereafter to herself.

Kayleigh sniffled, her vision blurred by unshed tears. She blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. She had not cried for him then, she refused to cry for him now. What good would it do? Tears could not bring him back. She hardened her heart.

Lancelot squeezed her hands, "You need not disguise yourself with me. I will not betray your secrets."

"I know," she gave him a slight smile as they stood. "I wear faces more for my sanity than yours," she joked.

They exited the room into the dark hallway where she gave her thanks to him for his concern. She was grateful for the exchange of wits they had there to lighten the mood but she would have never implied they had slept together if she knew they had an audience. While Lancelot escorted her to the building's door, Kayleigh wondered if Tristan had slept better than her.

The morning light blinded them as they stepped out into the courtyard. The sky was unusually clear for the region and the villagers took full advantage of the early sunlight, though most of them had stayed up well past the crescent moon had set beneath the horizon. It took a moment for the pair's eyes to adjust, too long to avoid the beeline Dedric was making toward them.

"Good morning, Kayleigh," he greeted. "Lancelot," he acknowledged with an obvious lack of enthusiasm.

Kayleigh nodded in return while Lancelot's gaze seemed to see straight through their host's son.

"I trust you slept well. Would you care to join me for breakfast," he asked turning toward Kayleigh.

She gave a courteous smile while stifling a yawn, "We appreciate your generosity but we have much to do before departing."

Dedric looked dismayed by her response. He didn't buy into her excuse. "Surely you have the time for a piece of fruit and a bite of bread."

"It's a long way home," she told him as she stepped around him, Lancelot close behind. "I hope you weren't hungry," she said to Lancelot quietly as they walked away.

He shook his head, "I lost my appetite at the sight of that man."

"Where have you been?" Gawain called to Lancelot from near a half-loaded cart of supplies. He had woken up in the middle of the night to find Lancelot's bed empty. It was not out of the ordinary for the knight, but Gawain's curiosity got the better of him. When they came close enough for him to see that his companion was Kayleigh, he raised an eyebrow.

Lancelot gave him an innocent smile, "I couldn't sleep."

"Sure you couldn't," Gawain elbowed him in the ribs. Kayleigh narrowed her eyes at the implication causing Gawain to nervously clear his throat.

Bors exited a doorway hefting a large sack over his shoulder. He threw it down unceremoniously in the cart with a loud thud before grunting at Lancelot, "Well, while you've been off taking a nice leisurely walk through town with a pretty lady, I've been sweating my bloody arse off hauling supplies for Arthur."

"Point taken," Lancelot threw Kayleigh a grin before disappearing through a doorway after Bors.

"I'll prepare the horses," she told Gawain as Arthur approached.

Her escape was not fast enough as Arthur caught up with her and drew her aside. "We must talk. Our long voyage back to Britain will give us time for such a discussion."

Her frown deepened as she realized she could not avoid Arthur on a tiny ship. She had not yet explained why she had traveled with the Celts in Gaul while searching for her brother or the origin of the zigzagged scar on the palm of her hand.

"Can any secret be harbored when you're around," she asked, her voice frustrated.

"Not from me," Arthur replied seriously.

Kayleigh sighed and began to walk to the stables, "Someday you will have to decide whether you can trust me or not."

"Perhaps today," he gave a small smile as he walked beside her. "You also will need to learn to trust me. I am not the corrupted Roman who pulled you from the ship. I adopted my mother's understanding and forgiveness, my father's strength and leadership, and my teacher, Pelagius, taught me to respect every man's right of freedom."

"Pelagius," her startled voice could not mask her recognition of the name.

"Do you know him," Arthur asked her hopefully.

She thought for a moment as they stepped into the dimly lit stables. "I have heard his name before. In Rome he gained many followers with his teachings of free will." _And enemies_, she thought silently to herself. Arthur grinned at news of his friend's success as Kayleigh glanced around the horses' stalls. She was alarmed to find one missing. "Tristan's horse is gone."

"He left early this morning to take word to the captain to prepare the ship," Arthur told her. "Get the remaining horses ready. We leave in an hour."

* * *

By noon they were underway and crossing the body of water the Romans called Oceanus Hibernicus. A storm had suddenly churned up the waters, causing the ship to lurch in every possible direction. If it subsided, they would be back to Britain by dawn tomorrow. As it was, they weren't making very good time despite the high winds. 

Bors and Dagonet stood near the railing grasping the belts of Gawain and Galahad to be sure they would not fall overboard as they leaned vomiting into the sea. Kayleigh hadn't seen Tristan since they finished loading the ship and hadn't spoken to him since their argument last night. She knew he was avoiding her but there was not much she could do about it at the moment.

The captain had confined her below decks using her safety as an excuse but she had heard him grumbling to his first mate about how a woman on board was bad luck. It hadn't been long before Arthur and Lancelot cornered her in a tiny room and she conceded to answer their questions.

"You told us you traveled with the Celts while searching for your brother. How did you come to be a part with them," Arthur asked getting straight to the point.

"I was riding at night under the cover of darkness. I found it safer this way. It was as I was riding through the lands of the Vandals when the Celts came across me. They were hired by Rome to be mercenaries, headhunters. They were returning to Gaul, heads of Vandals dangling from their horses, when I was captured. When they saw the symbol on my hand, they became terrified. They believed Taranus sent me in his anger to punish them for conducting business with the Romans who had once been their enemy. They sent for their druid who they believe was the only one who could sedate the god's anger and save them from destruction," Kayleigh explained.

Lancelot began laughing. "So the captain was right, you are bad luck," he said teasingly. She narrowed her eyes at him.

Arthur leaned forward slightly, "You've met a druid?"

"They are not the evil beings you believe them to be," she said, annoyed. "He became my teacher. I stayed with them for two years before I found my brother in Rome."

"And the mark," Lancelot took her hand and studied it, "where did it come from?"

Kayleigh pulled out her sword, displaying the pommel of the hilt to them. It was the mirror image of the scar on her hand. "I burnt my hand on it," she laughed at their shocked faces. "The Kalybes tribe in Sarmatia designed this sword. They are master metalworkers with ancient techniques. When they are finished forging a blade, they embed it atop a high hill and wait for a storm. The blade is not removed until lightning has struck it. It is said that is the blessing from their gods that the blade is worthy of its wielder. When it is struck, the metal glows white with heat which hardens the blade further. This I did not know. I tried to pull the sword from the ground while it was still hot."

She grinned remembering the foolishness of her youth, "It took many weeks to heal but its product has saved me from death enough times to make up for the pain."

"Perhaps you are not so unlucky after all," Lancelot shook his head in disbelief.

* * *

It was well past midnight when they reached the fortress. Tiberius greeted them at the gate and hurriedly ushered Arthur to the Great Hall to report all that had happened in his absence. Kayleigh and Gawain took the horses to the stables as the rest of the knights went their separate ways. Tristan was already caring for his horse when they entered. 

"I am sure there is a pretty lady waiting somewhere to take care of you Gawain," Kayleigh said. Some of the color had returned to his face after stepping onto dry land again but she could tell he was exhausted. "No need for both of us to have to spend the next hour in a room of smelly animals," she directed the last part at Tristan. This didn't go unnoticed by Gawain and he retreated quickly from the tense atmosphere.

Tristan quietly watched as she settled the horses in their stalls. He did not try to speak to her while she was in this dark mood, nor did she speak to him. He only took relief in knowing the red marks he had made on her neck the previous night had faded. She departed into the dark night without so much as a glance in his direction. There was the scout, out in the wide open, feeling more invisible than ever.

Arthur and Tiberius talked into the early hours of morning. He had doubled the watch after word came that the Saxons had landed and laid siege on the fortress Segedunum on the eastern coast. It had been two days since that message came and they've heard nothing since. With the decreased number in troops, he could not spare any to aid in battle while still defending his station. Arthur agreed on his decision and commended him on his good judgement. They needed to fight the Saxons but keep the people safe.

He explained to Tiberius what had happened with the Scotts and informed him on their battle plan. It would take the fighting away from the civilian population but he wanted a firm defense plan in place if they fail. He gave orders to Tiberius to lead the people west into Vindolanda. The fortress there is large enough to hold the refuges and strong enough to ward off sustained attack.

"I would rather ride with you into battle," Tiberius argued. He was not one to turn his back on a fight.

"And I would be grateful for your sword, but these people need you. It will not be an easy task to evacuate people from their homes to protect them from an enemy they cannot see. It will take a true leader," Arthur squeezed his shoulder. "I need you to take half of the troops to Vindolanda with you. Make preparations for defense."

Tiberius stood and saluted, "May God be with you."


	28. Preparation

AN: I know, it's been a really long time. Thanks for still reading and reviewing. I'm trying to get my act together. Hope you enjoy this one.

* * *

Kayleigh sat atop a hill beyond the cemetery, staring unseeing into the distance. She sat on her heels, her legs folded beneath her in the damp grass. The small village around the fortress slowly came to life as the sun rose above the horizon. Even as the farmers took to working the fields around her, she stayed in her trance-like state like a figure etched from stone. Only her hair moved with the occasional breeze. 

Tristan looked down at her from the parapets of the fortress wall. His shoulder was healing well but the whole ordeal had left him exhausted. It was nice to sleep in his own room again but he couldn't stand how confined he felt. He needed to get out. Atop the fortress walls he had a birds-eye view. He could watch the activities of those inside and outside the wall. For the moment, he had his eyes fixed on Kayleigh, as they had been since the moon had set.

As if it would help him decipher why she had been out there all morning, he squinted his eyes. "She's been out there since we came back. I saw her walk straight out after she was finished with the horses," Dagonet informed him.

Tristan didn't need to be reminded of that. He had thought their ordeal in Eire had brought them closer, but the way she had completely ignored him only confirmed his conclusion to what had happened the morning he witnessed Kayleigh and Lancelot leave her room together. He hadn't been able to think of anything else the entire trip back. At least before that night she would give him a passionate argument and a toss of her wavy hair if she was angry with him. Now he got nothing.

Though anger burned in his heart toward Lancelot, he glanced back at Kayleigh with increasing concern. She had to have been just as tired as he, yet she didn't sleep? If she thought she was going with them today to face the Saxons, she needed to rest. He turned on Dagonet, "Why didn't you stop her?"

"It wasn't my right to interfere," Dagonet said sadly.

"Of course. Perhaps we should send Lancelot," Tristan hissed.

A spark of anger lit Dagonet's eyes as he addressed Tristan, voice stern, "This has nothing to do with him, or you. Any fool with half a brain can figure it out. If you hadn't been so caught up in yourself and your 'troubles' you would know what ails her and that her heartache dwarfs yours in comparison."

Dagonet rarely let his temper slip but he felt better that he spoke his mind. He knew what conclusion Tristan had come to between Lancelot and Kayleigh and knew that it was unfounded. If he could get Tristan to talk to her, Tristan would know that too. "It is the anniversary of her brother's death. In her mourning, she has neither eaten nor slept in the past two days."

* * *

Kayleigh was aware of everything around her. Though she could see how others could believe her mind was far from her surroundings, in truth, it was the complete opposite. She could hear the flap of the night owl's wings, smell the trees of the forest from across the field, and feel the life within every wisp of grass she knelt upon. Not only were her senses of this world heightened, but of another world as well. 

She knew she didn't have much time. With sunrise came a new day, and death and birth could not co-exist in that same moment. Her senses hit their peak after the moon set. The veil of the Other World was thinner when neither day nor night dominated the earth. It was then that she felt her brother's spirit the strongest. She communicated with him in a language that transcends speech and thoughts. _Why have you not moved on to the world of our ancestors?_

His tone was light and playful. _How would I be able to protect you from there?_

_You don't need to protect me, _she replied.

_What kind of brother would I be if I didn't?_

Kayleigh's heart sank in realization. _A dead one. As wonderful as our bond is, I cannot let this connection give me false hope. You aren't coming back. The past has happened. It wasn't just a nightmare I can discard. This is only a fleeting moment that may never come again._

She felt his mood grow serious. _Yes, this is true. You always were the practical one bringing my head down out of the clouds. Then let me tell you what you need to know. The battles ahead are dangerous. I do not only mean today's battle with the Saxons. Your decisions can change the fate of those lives around you._

This news frightened her. She had always lived an insignificant life. The knowledge that her choices may have some importance to the world around her and those she cared about made her uneasy. What if she chose the wrong path? She felt the warmth of her brother's comfort surround her.

_Your heart has been damaged in the past, Kayleigh. But do not let your mistrust keep you from happiness. You did not end up here by mistake. You were pu into the lives of Arthur and his knights for a reason, and them in yours._

The sky was lightening. Time was running out.

_What am I supposed to do?_

She heard him laugh as if the answer was obvious. _Take a chance._

_I don't understand! _Her heart raced as the clouds burned bright colors. They only had a few seconds left.

A warm breeze encircled her as if it were his farewell. _When the time comes, you will._

The sun peeked over the horizon shattering the grey of the 'tween moment. Kayleigh closed her eyes in grief. Finishing a prayer for her brother's spirit, she stood taking in a shaky breath. She turned toward the sound of an approaching horse.

"We are ready to leave," Lancelot told her, unaware of what had just taken place. "A ride, m'lady?" he asked, offering his hand. Suddenly tired, she took it gratefully, and they rode back to the fortress wordlessly.

* * *

Lancelot circled the slow moving caravan again. They traveled east on the Stanegate road toward the coast where the Saxons' invasion party landed. The knights were anxious to meet the enemy but the supplies wagon and infantry slowed them down considerably. 

Lancelot turned his horse quickly in front of the infantry kicking up more dust than was necessary. He barely held back a grin as the foot soldiers choked on the thick cloud.

"Arthur, could you not discipline your men into riding in formation? This barbarian is making me dizzy," a bored centurion complained. He was in command of one of the seven centuries they were able to scrounge up in such short notice. They had also gathered a squadron of approximately 140 horsemen. Still, from what information they got out of the conspirators from forts around the island, they were greatly outnumbered. They wouldn't have a chance without the Celtic tribes from the west.

"Lancelot, ride ahead to the next milecastle. Find out if they have any new information and report back to me," Arthur commanded before the knight was charged with insubordination.

* * *

"You shouldn't be here," Tristan said as he rode up next to her. 

Kayleigh snorted, "None of us should be here--Sarmatians, Romans, Saxons. The Woads are the only ones that belong here."

Tristan didn't reply. The situation was more complicated than that, she just hadn't been at Hadrian's wall as long as the knights had. Though it was not his war to fight, he had lost brothers-in-arms which made the Woads as much of an enemy to him as the Romans or Saxons. It satisfied him to spill their blood.

He pulled a pair of apples from his saddle bag and handed one to Kayleigh, "You don't need to starve yourself to honor your brother."

"It is my people's custom to fast for three days to honor the dead," she explained impatiently.

"You're weak. If you don't nourish your body before heading into battle, you will join your dead," Tristan stated.

"Well," she said haughtily, while taking the offered apple, "I shall deprive you of that pleasure."

Tristan watched in satisfaction as she urged her horse to the front of the caravan to ride with Gawain and Galahad, taking a bite of the apple on the way. At least she wasn't ignoring him anymore.

Kayleigh hadn't even finished her fruit before Lancelot was back confirming that the Saxons had landed on the Eastern coast and were marching west on the Stanegate taking any fort or mile castle along the way. Many of the villagers had been evacuated days ago but those militia stationed there defended their posts as long as possible before retreating or dying.

By mid-day they had reached the place where they would make their stand. To the north was the wall. Trees covered a high hill to the south. The archers were granted access to the rampart walk through a turret recessed into the wall and rushed to set up their supplies of bows and arrows. Arthur sent the calvary to cut logs from the southern forest so Kayleigh could tend to the many horses. The infantry took to unloading the supplies wagons and digging trenches.

Arthur was pleased to see everything come together within two hours. During that time, Tristan had taken out a dozen Saxon scouts before they could report back the danger that awaited them to their leader. The ranks were called into formation, flags and standards raised, and last orders given. The only thing left for Arthur to worry about is whether the warriors of Eire will live up to their word. It was mid-afternoon and still there was no sign of them.

Tristan joined him in the valley, his horse excited, but controled. "They are just beyond the bend in the road," he informed Arthur.

"How many?" Arthur automatically asked.

"Thousands. At least ten," Tristan estimated. He saw his commander doing the math in his head. Tristan had already figured they would be outnumbered more than ten to one.

Arthur nodded, showed no signs of discouragement. "Join the others and wait for my signal," he commanded. He watched the knight ride up the hill and disappear into the trees, hoping it was not the last he saw of Tristan and his men would make it out of this battle alive.


	29. The Battle Cry

I know it's been a very long time since I've updated. Over three years, in fact. I had to go back a read the whole thing because I had forgotten what I had previously written. So, to recap, Arthur and the Romans are waiting for the Saxons to come over the hill. They are still waiting for the Scotts from Eire to join them in fighting the Saxons. Now on with the story!

* * *

The drums sounded louder as the Saxon army neared. It echoed in the valley Arthur chose as the battleground, resonating off Hadrian's Wall to the north, where a hundred of Rome's archers stood at attention, and to the south where his knights and dozens of other horsemen used the cover of the woods until it was time to spring forth. Arthur turned, assessing the troops that the southern settlements could muster in such short notice. In total they were barely one thousand strong on foot, armed only with sword, spear, and shield.

Arthur's jaw tightened as he thought of the Scotts from across the sea who vowed to ally with them against the Saxons. Here they were within minutes of battle, outnumbered ten to one, and they were no where to be seen. He turned back to the road in front of him in time to see the first Saxons crest the hill. Undisciplined and out of ranks, they stopped mid-stride in shock, causing those following too closely to collide into them. The drumming faded and orders were barked through the groups.

The commands came from a big, bulky man with dark hair that draped his shoulders. As his men organized, he quickly assessed the situation. Their arrival to this land had been in planning for years. The only setback was lack of fighting men. After the battle with the Scotts resulted in a draw, they made a pact to wage war against the Romans in Britain together. They were to meet along the Stanegate, waging war along the way. Slaughtering this pathetic attempt to oppose invasion will bring them closer to the west where the Scotts should have already taken two coastal forts, and on to victory.

Arthur watched as the leader let out a mighty battle cry and charged down the hill followed by his men. He waited patiently for them to come within range before signaling the commanding officer on the wall. The crouched archers stood, revealing their location, and brought a hail of arrows down upon the enemy. For every Saxon that fell, another took his place as thousands swarm down from the road ahead.

The Saxons crashed down upon the Roman infantry, but their shields held strong, created an unbreakable barrier. With no where for the front ranks to go and the Saxon troops still moving forward, the valley became crowded with no room to move. Arthur signaled toward the trees where Kayleigh waited, torch in hand. She lit a row of logs the troops had spent the afternoon chopping and covering with tar. Flames darted across the wood igniting the ropes that held them secure atop the hill.

Columns of fire tumbled down the hill, crushing and burning Saxons below. With their deaths came more room on the battle field but trapped the enemy forces between burning logs and the wall. The Saxon leader sent in reinforcements to replace the fallen left flank. The logs successfully split the Saxon army in two.

Arthur smiled to himself and signaled to the trees to the South. The mounted knights bounded from the trees and down the hill roaring their Sarmatian battle cry. Calvary from the legion followed, armored horses leaping over burning logs and tearing through the Saxon's left flank like demons out of hell. On the right flank, Saxons were tightly packed between the burning logs, Hadrian's Wall, and the Romany infantry.

Kayleigh watched momentarily from the tree line. The Roman's were gaining a foot hold in the battle but were still outnumbered. _Brother keep me safe_, she prayed. Just as she turned to free her horse there was a rumbling under her feet.

On the battle field the Saxon leader turned toward the hill they had charged down from only moments earlier. He shielded his eyes from the glittering light rising from the hill like the summer sun. He smiled when he saw Airell in elaborate golden armor, his jeweled sword swinging above his head, a battle cry in his throat. _His armor alone could pay two years wages for every man in my army_, the Saxon thought greedily. _That would come in its own time though, after we've finished off the Romans._

Arthur also saw the glint of light and sighed with relief as he watched hundreds of Scotti Champions on horses and chariots strike the rear lines of the Saxon army. There was a moment of confusion as the Saxons realized their allies had turned against them and then utter panic. The Saxons in the rear trying to escape the Scotts pushed their own frontlines directly onto the blades of the Romans. As Arthur's eyes scanned the valley, they locked with the Saxon leader, who visually was tearing Arthur apart limb by limb with his hatred. He turned to practically apply the hatred to the nearest Scotti, engaging in combat.

Kayleigh rode east along the tree line turning to join the Scotti Champions. "You're late," she yelled over the may lay to Bevyn, careful not to get too close. The wheels of the chariot he rode were adorned with spikes that would tear through flesh, organs, and bone alike. He laughed even as the enemy's blood spattered on his cheek.

"Sorry lass," Turi replied for Bevyn who veered to the right, his eyes locked on a stray group of fur clad Saxons. "The letter with Arthur's wax seal was as useless as tits on a pig. Every damned Roman scouting party wanted to stop and threaten us."

"I'm sure you did quite a bit of threatening yourselves," she managed to get out while slicing Saxons with her sword as they galloped through the field.

Soon they found themselves in the middle of the battle. The Roman infantry successfully held the enemy back but the volume of live bodies around them was so dense they slowed to a cantor, then the horses stopped completely, unable to move forward and not enough room to turn and retreat. The horses reared and kicked in defense as their riders either clung to them for life or dismounted. Kayleigh and Turi dismounted, cutting down Saxons to free an escape for their steeds while dodging hooves. Kayleigh saw a Saxon going for the tendons of her horse with an ax. She jumped forward with a yell and blocked his swing with her sword, putting her dagger through his throat before he could balance himself again.

She chanced a glance across the field. Arthur had reformed the troops into a more offensive position and had joined the battle. Most of the knights had led their horses to the safety of the outer ranks and regrouped. She turned her head in time to watch in horror as Gawain's horse fell screaming, flailing its legs.

"Turi! Gawain!" She gestured in his direction with her chin she blocked a blow to her chest. "Make a way," was all she could get out as her vision blurred from emotions and smoke. She mounted her horse between its kicking and dug her heels into its sides forcing it forward through the mass of swarming bodies.

Turi looked around for any of his men that could help clear a way for Kayleigh to give the knight a chance. He spotted Bevyn not too far away and let out a high pitched whistle to get his attention. Bevyn wheeled the chariot and brought it alongside Turi who leapt aboard and took the reigns.

"We must clear a path for her before she gets herself killed!" he yelled at Bevyn over the clamor.

Bevyn nodded and picked up a bow and quiver of arrows, clearing the Saxon infantry from the chariot. Turi whipped the horses into action, gathering enough speed to trample anyone who stood in its ways.

"Kayleigh!" Bevyn yelled. "Allow us to plow the fields!" His laughter rang out above the grunts and screams of those his arrows found targets in.

"I don't know who's more deranged," Turi said to Bevyn, "You or Kayleigh."

Kayleigh fought her way to the clearing made by the chariot and followed its path across the battlefield to Gawain.

"You're on your own, lass," Turi hollared as they wheeled away. To keep a chariot unmoving was death to all it carried.

She nodded her thanks and dismounted, quickly taking out the nearest Saxon. Gawain was fighting above his horse like one possessed. "Gawain," she called to him. He swung out blindly at anyone that neared him.

"Gawain," she yelled louder. He turned, his sword slicing through the air between them. A Saxon came at her and she dodged his attack brining her sword up to slice his midsection. He dropped to the ground wailing.

"Gawain, it's Kayleigh," she tried again. "We need to go!" The Saxons were coming at them in all directions and they would not be able to hold them off much longer.

"My horse…" Gawain muttered.

"Your horse is dead!" she yelled. She cut a lock of hair from the horse's mane before mounted her own horse. There was no time for this.

"Come on, Gawain," she yelled hold her hand out to him. A Saxon on the other side of her horse swung his axe catching her lower leg. She cried out and thrust her sword into him. "Gawain, now!"

The tone of her voice brought him back to himself and he mounted swiftly behind her. She kicked her horse into action, slicing Saxons down as they galloped out of the fray. They rode up the hill to the tree line to give both the tree and themselves a respite.

Gawain dismounted and turned to Kayleigh. "I'm sorry," he said. "I've had her since Sarmatia," he tried to explain.

"Don't worry about it," she told him as she swung her leg down from the horse. The moment she put the weight on her right foot, her leg collapsed.

"Kayleigh!" Gawain came over to help her. "You're hurt!"

"It's nothing," she said through gritted teeth. He helped her over to a tree, which she leaned against and then slid to the ground.

"Let me look at it," he offered, crouching to peel the flap of her trousers that hung off her calf.

"No," she said, stopping him. He sat back, frowning. "Listen. Do you hear that?"

"The battle? It's difficult not to hear that."

"No," she listened for it again. "There," she said as a trumpet called, its notes barely loud enough to flutter over the din of battle.

"It's the call to regroup," Gawain said, listening. "Arthur must have a plan."

"Go. Take my horse."

"I can't just leave you here—"

"Yes, you can!" she exclaimed, taking him by the shoulders. "That is your duty. It's what you're here for. Besides, Arthur needs you. The men need you."

He nodded and stood. "I'll come back for you," he promised as he mounted her horse.

She smiled. "I know."

After he was gone, she peeled the blood soaked flap of her breeches away to reveal a deep gash in her leg. She ripped the cleanest strip of cloth from her clothes that she could find and tied it around her leg to slow the bleeding. She resigned herself to resting against the tree though she wanted to rejoin the fight.

Kayleigh heard the trumpet again and a horn sounded in response. The clash in the valley below became quieter and she wished she had chosen a spot closer to the tree line so she could see what was going on. She took the horse hair she had cut from Gawain's horse from her pocket and began plaiting it into a long cord. She knew how difficult it was for him to lose the last thing that reminded him of home.

She knotted off the cord and returned it to her pocket. The sky was getting darker and she folded her arms before her to conserve her body heat. She wasn't sure if it was getting cold with the setting of the sun or if she was losing too much blood. She hoped it was the former.

Suddenly, a twig cracked in the forest. Her eyes darted across the landscape. "Gawain?"

The footsteps became louder and quicker. A flash of animal furs appeared between the trees. Kayleigh cursed as she pulled herself up to standing position. The world swayed in front of her and she held onto the tree to steady herself. Her sword rang from its sheath as three Saxons stepped into the clearing before her.


	30. Running from Death

Thanks everyone that reviewed! Allison, I'm glad you _think_ I'm a genius. I hope I don't let you down. lol Yellow Neon, I had to read my story from the beginning also. I had forgotten what I wrote. It took me a lot longer to read than an hour though. I'll try to put some more Galahad in future chapters. Devil, is this soon enough? Cleo, I know. _Finally_ would be the right word. Anyway, hope you all like this chapter. I actually wrote two different versions but decided to go with this one. Let me know if it's too dramatic. I'm thinking it's a bit much but maybe I'm wrong?

* * *

The three Saxons advanced on her at once. Kayleigh swung her sword in a wide arc, preventing them from coming any closer.

"Stay back!" She yelled.

The three Saxons sneered at her. One said something in his language to the others and they snickered. She blocked a swing of the axe from one while dodging another's attack. While the two attackers were keeping her busy avoiding blows she lost track of the third man. The two Saxons backed away laughing as Kayleigh stood confusedly in a defensive stance.

Cold steel pressed against her throat, drawing a trickle of blood. The third man had circled and come up behind the tree she was leaning against for support. Suddenly, a pain shot down her spine and the world turned black.

* * *

"Reports, sir," a soldier said, handing him a sheet of parchment.

Arthur dismissed the man and read quickly through the report. Nearly a third of the infantry was either dead or injured. They had set up triage on the battlefield and tried to save as many as possible. Dagonet had volunteered to assist the overwhelmed surgeon. Arthur sent Tristan and Bors to hunt down any Saxons lurking in the immediate vicinity. He knew Tristan had an inhuman amount of endurance and would keep Bors out of trouble, who never tired of killing. The other knights were working their way around the battlefield delivering mercy blows to any dying Saxons and helping the injured to triage.

It was in the early hours of morning when their work was finally done. Gawain went to see the surgeon for treatment of a blow to the head he received that didn't want to stop bleeding. Galahad was getting a cut on his arm bandaged when Lancelot led his horse to the tent.

"Have you seen Kayleigh?" Lancelot asked. "The horses haven't been tended to yet."

"I haven't seen her," Galahad said.

"Kayleigh!" Gawain exclaimed, jumping up. "I left her in the forest!"

"What?!?" Lancelot exclaimed.

"We have to go get her. She was injured," Gawain said.

"You're not going anywhere," the surgeon replied to his outburst as he pulled Gawain back down to the cot. "Your head need stitches and you may have a concussion."

"Why did you leave her out there in the first place?" Lancelot asked furiously, mounting his horse.

Gawain told them what had happened on the battlefield and the wound she wouldn't let him examine. "She was fine. She told me to go," Gawain tried to explain.

"I'll find her," Lancelot said turning his horse and galloping into the darkness. He hadn't even made it to the southern hill when he came across Tristan and Bors.

"Where you goin'?" Bors asked. "If you're looking for some blood to spill, you're too late. We got all of 'em."

"No," Lancelot said. "Kayleigh's out there somewhere. Gawain left her in the forest."

"There's no one out there," Tristan said. "We swept the land twice."

Lancelot cursed.

"Don't worry," Bors said, "she can take care of herself. She's probably making her way back to camp now."

"No," Lancelot said. "You don't understand. Gawain said she was injured pretty badly. There was no way she was going anywhere."

* * *

Kayleigh was dreaming she was on a ship back to Rome, her hands bound behind her back. The lurching was making her feel sick. The sound of a loud creak, followed by a bang, rocked the ship uncontrollably. Water burst through the wooden planks and she was pulled underwater. She fought for the surface as her eyes shot open. She took a breath, cold water flooding into her lungs.

The Saxons that were holding her pulled her up out of the trough of water. They laughed as her body worked to expel the water. She choked and coughed, water dripping down her chin. She took a deep breath of blessed air before succumbing to another coughing fit.

The men that held her threw her down on her knees before their leader. He was a big man. His long black hair in tangles down his back blended in with the black furs he wore. Blood splattered and smeared with dirt, he smelled like death.

"You must be Arthur's little spy," the man said in Roman looking her over. He laughed at her look of surprise. "I am not the dumb beast the Romans like to think I am."

"You look like one," Kayleigh muttered in Sarmatian.

The man ignored her comment, not understanding the language. "I am Eadwig. You should know the name of your new master."

"I have no master," Kayleigh hissed through her teeth. She spit at his feet.

The man laughed again. "Look at the spark of defiance in her eyes," he told his audience holding Kayleigh's chin in his hand. "It won't be there for long. You will pay for the many men I lost thanks to you and your knights."

He nodded at the men that held her and they dragged her away. Instinctively, she counted the men's footsteps and noted the turns they took to arrive at the prison. She felt a boot on her back and stumbled forward with the force, landing on the hard, cold stones. The door slammed behind her, a lock clicking into place.

"Gods! Why do I always find myself in these situations?" she asked in despair. "It really is getting ridiculous."

"Kayleigh?"

She rolled onto her side toward the sound of the voice. "Bevyn? How—"

"Apparently I'm not as great of a warrior when I'm sober," he said giving her a lopsided grin.

"Was anyone else taken?"

He shrugged. "If they were, they aren't here. It looks like it's just us lucky two." He kneeled down, grasping the bars between their cells. "Are you hurt?" he asked spotting her makeshift bandage.

"It's just a scratch," she replied. "You?"

"Besides this massive headache, nothing that will scar, unfortunately." Kayleigh lifted an eyebrow. "I'm never going to live this down," he said with a laugh.

"If we live," Kayleigh said.

"Oh, we will," Bevyn said. She looked at him expectantly. "Don't look at me! You're the one that pulls the brilliant plans out of thin air. Why don't you show them your hand?"

"I doubt they worship the same gods," Kayleigh said. "And they know I played both sides and warned the Romans of their invasion. At this point, their anger towards me is greater than any fear they may have of any god."

Bevyn whistled. "We'll have to find a way out of here quickly then."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm a dead woman," she said with a sigh.

* * *

"What's this?" Lancelot asked, gesturing at the flurry of activity that had started abruptly.

"We're breaking camp," Arthur said. He had expected Lancelot's arrival. The knights had always used him as messenger. They knew Lancelot would speak his mind and Arthur, as his friend, would listen.

"What about Kayleigh?" Lancelot asked. "We can't just leave her out there."

"She's not out there," Arthur replied. "Cadell and his men have searched the battlefield and haven't found her. Neither has Tristan who has spent every minute in that damn forest looking for her. There's no sign of her anywhere and we have wasted enough time here."

"If it were one of us, you would not abandon the search," Lancelot accused.

"I would," Arthur said. "I know you can find your way back to the fort if you were out in the forest on your own. If you were captured, which is more likely, I would not waste any more time idling here."

"Kayleigh doesn't know the land like we do," Lancelot pointed out. "She hasn't been this side of the fort before."

"Are you saying Tristan is incapable of doing his job?"

"No," Lancelot replied. He knew if anyone could find her it would be Tristan.

"Then let's get going. The sooner we get there, the sooner you can save the damsel in distress and reap the rewards," Arthur teased, clapping the knight on the shoulder.

"Yes, because that worked so well last time," Lancelot said sarcastically.

"We all know you were in her room," Arthur stated.

"Nothing happened," Lancelot confessed. "Well, nothing like _that_ happened."

Arthur raised a questioning eyebrow.

Lancelot shook his head, unwilling to break Kayleigh's trust. "And for some reason, I don't think we'll find her dancing and drunk when we arrive," Lancelot said gravely. Arthur agreed.

* * *

"Kayleigh…"

She groaned. "What?"

"Keep your eyes open, lass," Bevyn's voice came through the fog in her head. He had been telling her the story of the Tuatha Dé Danann who were beautiful people that lived under the ground of Eire.

Green shown through the small slits between her eyelids. She hadn't moved from the spot she fell but cushioned her head with her arms. "I'm just tired, Bevyn," she mumbled, letting her eyelids droop down again.

"Kayleigh! Look at me!" Bevyn called.

"It's alright, Bevyn," she replied, her eyes fluttering open. "Death has been on my heels for fifteen years. I was meant to die with my tribe when I was eight years old but my brother hid me. I was meant to be killed by the Huns when they invaded Sarmatia nine years ago, but I ran. I was supposed to die at the hands of Gauls eleven years ago but this scar saved me," she said, tracing the lightning shape on her palm. "And I should have died in Rome, with my brother, but I didn't. I ran again. I ran to Britannia."

She was quiet a moment reflecting on her life, then let out a small laugh. The gods must be punishing her for something. "Now death has caught up with me again."

"Don't speak like that," Bevyn chided. "You'll out-fox her again."

"No, Bevyn," she sighed, closing her eyes again. "I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of running and hiding. I'm just… tired."

"Don't give in, Kayleigh," he pleaded.

"I need to," she replied. "Tell the knights… tell them…" she couldn't think of the right words. She was having a hard time thinking at all. "Tell them nothing. It's better that way."

"No, Kayleigh!" Bevyn shouted. He banged against the bars. He yelled and screamed. He did everything he could think to do to get her to return his gaze but her eyes didn't open again. He had watched the scrap of clothing tied around her leg drip blood, the pool of dark liquid expanding under her. Now he watched as her breathing slowed and her chest stilled.


	31. Visions from the Afterlife

Alright guys, I know it's been awhile. Sorry about that. You'll probably have to go back, at least to the last chapter to remember what was going on. I know I had to. I just typed this up in one shot so hopefully it isn't too bad. Reviews are welcome and requested, as always. Enjoy!

_Thundering hoofbeats approach. Kayleigh looked up from the designs she was drawing in the dirt. It was her brother riding full speed toward the tribe's encampment. She stood as he drew near, putting small fists on her hips, about to chastise her elder sibling who had been out hunting all day for spending the horse the way he did._

"_Romans!" he yelled before she could say anything._

"_How many?" a woman asked calmly. This was not the first time they had come under attack while the men where away raiding. The women of this tribe learned long ago how to defend themselves. Even the young girls like Kayleigh were armed with small knives._

"_Too many," Evren replied. "The raiding party… they're all dead." This news brought gasps and cries. "There's no time. We must run!"_

"_Run?," a woman repeated astounded. It was unthinkable. Run from the Romans after they killed their husbands, their sons?_

"_We will fight," a woman shouted angrily._

_Evren dismounted and ran to his mother. "There are too many. We will be slaughtered."_

"_Then we shall soon be reunited with the rest of our tribe in glory," she said, drawing her weapon._

"_Evren," Kayleigh cried running to her brother. "What's happening?"_

"_At least give the children a chance!" her brother yelled desperately, putting a comforting hand on Kayleigh's head as she clung to him. But the women were mad with their own grief and ignored him._

"_It will be alright," he told her. "Come on." He took her hand and ran to the outskirts of the camp. He stooped down and took his sister in a hug. Grasping her shoulders, he instructed her to stay in the hidden protection of the tall grass. "We are going to play a game," he told her. She tried to smile for him because she knew he was trying to cheer her up. She wiped her tears away stubbornly. She understood her father was dead and a dangerous battle was upon them. _

"_Pretend that you are a stone lying here in the grass. You can't move or make a noise or you lose the game. Understand?" She nodded. He didn't want her fighting. He wanted her to hide. "Good girl," he said. "I will come back for you. I promise." The first battle cries pierced the air and he turned and ran._

Kayleigh was jolted suddenly to her next memory.

"_You have been like parents to me," she was saying. "I don't know what I would have done had you not taken me in."_

"_We love you as we would one of our own," a grey haired man replied, his arm around his tear filled wife._

"_Are you sure you must go?" his wife asked._

_Kayleigh nodded solemnly. "I have caused you enough trouble. Your kinsmen will not tolerate my presence much longer. I would only be putting you in danger. That's the last thing I want to do. I wish there was some way I could repay you for your kindness…"_

_The woman embraced her. "Perhaps someday you will return."_

_Kayleigh nodded. "Perhaps after I find my brother." _

_The woman gave her a hopeful smile but her husband's face remained troubled. He had tried before to talk her out of this venture. There was little hope the boy was alive let alone that she would find him in the vast Roman Empire. "Gods be with you," he said as she mounted a horse laden with provisions and supplies._

_Turning the horse toward the trail, she began her journey, ignoring the sneers and insults of the other tribesmen. She had lived with these people for four years and never felt welcome. As time passed, the glares turned to insults and the insults turned to threats. Then one day last week, her horse turned up dead. The one thing that was truly hers, they had destroyed._

Flashes of time on the road, alone, tired, and hungry appeared before her.

_The horse was slick with sweat beneath her. Her heart was racing as she prayed to her gods for protection. Glancing over her shoulder, she noted the men were gaining on her. They yelled and laughed, seeing the chase as great sport. Leaning closer in to the horse she urged her to run faster._

_Suddenly the horse disappeared below her and she fell hard to the ground. A rope held her arms to her body and the man who had thrown it began dragging her through the dirt. The men laughed as she screamed and yelled obscenities. The man at the end of the rope stopped and circled around to her. He said something she could not understand. They dismounted and the man reeled the rope in. Kayleigh dug her heels into the ground but without any kind of leverage she was soon on her knees before him. The two other men held her while he began ripping at her clothes._

"No! Stop!" Kayleigh pleaded. She knew what came next and didn't want to relive it. It seemed the gods were listening but the next image was not any better.

"_I have come to buy my freedom," she told her master, holding out a purse of coins. "My brother is dead. I have no reason to stay."_

_He shook his head. "It is not mine to grant anymore." He turned his back to her. Evren had been his best charioteer but with him dead, he had no use for her anymore. "I have sold you."_

"_To who?" Kayleigh asked._

"_I'm sorry, but I could not pass up the offer," he said._

"_To who?" she repeated, increasingly worried._

_The Roman nodded to a guard who came over and bound Kayleigh's hands. She was hauled from the estate and loaded into a cart where her few possessions already awaited her. The ride was short and she took in her surroundings. The villa she was escorted to was large, larger than where she had just been sold from. She was lead to large bedroom and was left to wait alone. The knot in her stomach grew. The fact that she was lead to a bedroom and not the slave's quarters did not bode well._

"_Your master drives a hard bargain," a man said as he entered the room, two guards flanking him._

"_Pervidius!" she hissed between her teeth._

"_I prefer if you call me 'Master'," he said with a triumphant grin._

"_No!" Kayliegh screamed, lunging at the man. The guards caught her before she could reach her target, forcing her to her knees. She spat at his face._

_A crack resonated through the room when Pervidius backhanded her._

_Kayleigh looked up at him, lip split and bleeding, letting out a crazed peel of laughter. Pervidius' hand rested on the hilt of his dagger on his hip. "Do it," she provoked him. "Kill me." He showed her a wicked smile. "Go ahead," she continued. "You already killed my brother. Nothing can hurt me now."_

_The man laughed as he walked to the fireplace, returning with a red hot iron. "Good, then this won't hurt at all," he said, nodding to the guards, who ripped her clothes away, revealing her thigh. Kayleigh gritted her teeth as the scent of burnt flesh filled the air._

"Gods, why are you torturing me?" she screamed, trying to block the images. Only recent snippets of memory came to her now.

"…_fine line between pain and pleasure…"_

"…_who said I wasn't enjoying this…"_

"…_Maiden of Internal Fire…"_

_"…she is worthy of the chance to redeem herself…"_

"You are not meant to be here," a voice came.

"Where is here?" she asked into the darkness.

"No where," the voice replied. "You will not be granted entrance to the Land of the Ancestors. You have not fulfilled your destiny."

"You show me all these things I have lived through thinking that I will go back to that?"

"All these things have happened to bring you to where you are now, and more will happen to take you where you need to go."

"That's helpful," she replied with frustration.

"Take it all in and it will be revealed to you."

Kayleigh stealed herself and opened up to the images that came to her. They flashed quickly by. Some she recognized as her past, some she imagined as the present.

_The Saxons were walled up in the fortress against the massing Roman army._

_The Huns and Vandals advancing throughout the Roman Empire._

_Fury and her foal grazing in the fields._

Then newer images came to her.

_Arthur bringing a Woad girl from a stone prison._

_Dagonet pierced with arrows._

_Lancelot falling._

_Tristan dead._

"No!" she screamed. Hands were holding her down. Her eyes flew open.

A man with a beard looked down at her with astonishment. "She's alive!" he yelled. He made as sign as if to protect himself from evil spirits.

The Saxon who claimed to be her new master appeared. "You didn't think we would let you die so easily, did you little spy?"


	32. The Siege

Kayleigh slowly withdrew from consciousness. Eyes closed, she continued breathing the breath of sleep, deep and slow, while she pieced together the events that lead her to where she was now. She wasn't sure how long she had been out or even where she was. All she knew was she was in the hands of the enemy and her head ached as if someone had been using it as an anvil.

An image flashed in her mind.

Death. Hers.

She had died. How was she alive again? The Saxons must have some powerful healers. Or magic. They obviously had some other plan for her. One that she was sure she wasn't going to like. Focusing on her body, she took a better account of what kind of condition she was in. Her left leg felt like it was on fire. Not on fire, cut on the battlefield, she remembered. There was tightness around her lower leg, a bandage most likely. There were no other injuries, although her body felt sticky. She had been sweating, probably a fever.

She managed to swallow a groan that had nearly escaped. Thinking made her head hurt worse. This rouse would not last long. Eventually they would force her to consciousness and try to break her. They would try to extract the secrets of Rome, as if she had any to harbor. She had not been in Britannia long enough to know routines, tactics, or the Romans' security net. The torture would be excruciating but nothing she hadn't endured before. Besides, why would the gods send her back to earth only to suffer and die once more?

A shiver ran down her spine… unless her gods have forsaken her.

With that thought in her mind, she drifted back into darkness.

* * *

Arthur poured over maps on a make shift table in the center of the marching army's camp. They had traveled South along the Stanegate, the road running parallel to Hadrian's wall, and beyond, eradicating Saxons from forts along the way. He had just received reports indicating that the majority of the Saxon survivors were held up at Pons Aelius, a fort twenty miles down the road from where they stopped for the night.

The knights were restless. They were used to moving in swiftly, killing the enemy, and being done with it, not this kind of long campaign. It didn't help that there was still no sign of Kayleigh. To the surprise of the knights, it was Dedric, the son of the Scotti leader, that caused Arthur to break down and send a messenger back to the fort so see if she had returned there. She had not. The man's trip was not wasted though. Arthur had him ride to Vindolanda with a message to Tiberius, who wrote back that, despite the number of villagers that had crammed into the fort for safety, there had been no trouble.

It was normal for Tristan to become sleep deprived while on missions but there was not a resting moment for him. When his horse tired and could not go on, he patrolled on foot. He did not trust these Roman scouts. They couldn't track a Saxon if it left a trail of shiny gold coins behind. After giving a report of his last findings, Tristan stepped back into the shadows of Arthur's tent to listen to the convened centurions talk strategy.

"They make their stand here, at Pons Aelius," Arthur stated, pointing at one of the eastern most forts on the wall. Most of the men present had thorough understanding of the layout of the fort. It was small in comparison to the forts to the east and west of it, perhaps the only fort they could fully take control of since only a small amount of native British troops occupied it.

"Can't depend on the natives for anything," one of the centurions commented venomously.

Arthur gave him a hard stare. Noticing his blunder, the man coughed uncomfortably and concentrated more intensely on the map.

"The engineers can have a few siege engines built by sunrise," an older man beside him stated.

"No," Arthur replied. "We don't want to do too much damage to our own system of defense." The Woads surely knew of the Saxon's landing and were probably mounting their own forces to attack Rome's northern frontier while their attention lay elsewhere.

"Cutting off food and water supply will force them to eventually surrender," the veteran of the group offered.

Arthur shook his head. "We don't know how many prisoners they are holding. They would be the first to suffer and die."

Tristan shook his head. That was just like Arthur. These other Romans didn't give a damn about any prisoners, civilian or soldier.

"We could tunnel under the wall," the man who had insulted Arthur's heritage suggested. "We would only have to dig about twenty feet deep to clear it."

Tristan couldn't help but smirk at this stupid man's idea. He was glad he wasn't under his command. How many of his own men had he killed with his foolishness?

"And how would we get close enough to do that?" Arthur wondered aloud. "There is no cover. They would see us coming from miles away."

"There is a building here," the man replied pointing at the bath house.

"It would take weeks to tunnel from there," Arthur said with frustration.

"What is your great plan then?" the young man asked impatiently.

Arthur began pacing. There had to be a way. He glanced up and met Tristan's amused gaze. A smile formed on Arthur's face as he turned back to the map. "This is what we'll do…"

* * *

"Why are Tristan and Gawain the only ones going?" Lancelot asked, disappointed that he had to wait his turn for the action.

"Because they'd hear your loud mouth from a mile away," Bors said incredulously.

"Look who's talking," Lancelot shot back.

"Because," Arthur said, interrupting before it turned into an argument, "they are the only ones that may be able to pass as Saxons if they are seen."

Gawain growled and Tristan narrowed his eyes menacingly at the other knights who had burst out laughing.

"Yeah, yeah," Gawain said, donning the furs Arthur had handed him, "just wait until the end of the day when we can claim the glory of victory and you all can thank us." He turned to Tristan to get some kind of affirmative but he had to join in the laughter seeing him disguised as a Saxon. He looked ridiculous.

"Let's go," Tristan hissed, clearly annoyed.

If the joke had not been directed at him, Tristan would have been glad to see Gawain acting like his normal self. Since the death of his stead, Gawain was unusually quiet and withdrawn. His guilt about Kayleigh's disappearance did not help the matter. He blamed himself, and rightfully so, Tristan thought. It is common procedure to take a wounded comrade to the medicus behind the Roman lines. Tristan said nothing, though, the younger knight's guilt gave him enough to deal with.

The fog was heavy this morning and provided good coverage as Gawain and Tristan ran silently to the cover of the bath house. Not surprisingly, it was empty. The village around the fort was abandoned and the fort itself locked up tight from within. Tristan had made sure that all Saxon scouting parties had never made it back to the fort to report but they must have known the Romans were coming. The fact that their scouts never returned would have hinted at that. As long as the Saxons didn't know of the Roman army's strength in numbers, he was confident Arthur's plan would succeed.

He began to worry that he wouldn't be able to see the signal through the fog when he heard a warning cry pierce the air followed by the unmistakable hum of a volley of arrows flying through the air. "Now," he whispered and began running toward the outer wall of the fort. Two lookouts in the tower spotted them and Tristan had an arrow in each of them before they were able to raise alarm.

After they reached the base of the wall, Gawain took the grappling hook he was armed with and swung it by the rope in a few swift circles before letting it fly. It landed with a loud clank on the parapets of the wall forty feet overhead. He gave it a good yank to be sure it was securely in place before he began climbing. Tristan watched the walls from below, arrow notched in bow.

Gawain disappeared over the edge and a few moments later waved a bloody dagger at Tristan. The scout nodded, lacing his arm through the bow and began scaling the wall. At the top, he could see the commotion the Roman army was causing at the opposite wall of the fort. The Saxons scurried about putting out fires and men on the parapets were hurling objects at the attacking Romans outside the fort. He doubted any of them made their mark. Arthur was insistent that the ranks stay out of range of any missiles. Occasionally he saw Saxon fall, arrow protruding from a bleeding wound. At least they were doing some kind of damage.

The distraction had the Saxons so preoccupied with the attack on the western gate that they had completely abandoned the eastern gate. Tristan and Gawain slipped down to the door unseen and after unbarring it, pushed it open. Tristan took a pitch soaked arrow from his quiver, lit it on a nearby torch and fired it into the air to signal Arthur and the troops that lay in the protective covering of the forest. Unfortunately, it also drew attention from a small group of Saxons who had belatedly stumbled from their sleeping mats, apparently having celebrated victory prematurely the night before.

Tristan moved swiftly and silently for the kill before they could raise alarm. Gawain had to swallow an angry battle cry as he engaged the newcomers in battle. The Saxons had no such restraints and loudly fought the knights with grunts and curses. The two knights dispatched of the enemy quickly.

The earth beneath their feet began to tremble. All the Saxons froze, then turned toward the knights, eyes wide, rock and bow falling from their hands. Gawain looked at Tristan, who, over the rising thunder, yelled, "Run!"

They barely cleared the gate's road before the Scotts, with their 175 mounted Champions roared past, followed by Arthur and the rest of the knights. "Clear the wall," Arthur called to Tristan and Gawain, nodding toward the Saxons who had regained their senses and were now firing down at the horsemen.

Arthur scanned the scene before him, searching out the leader of this group of Saxons. Along the way they had found men in charge of smaller numbers of men but have so far failed to find the commander of the entire army. Arthur could not imagine that he would turn tail and run, not after all the planning that had gone into this invasion.

A man shouted loudly in the Saxon tongue ordering the men to get into formation and the warriors complied. Arthur scanned the disorganized frenzy for the authoritative figure, spotting him as he gave the order to advance. It was not the man he sought, but he may have information useful to Rome.

Arrows rained down on the ranks from above. Tristan and Gawain had gained the wall and used its height over the mêlée to their advantage. Lancelot was at Arthur's side and beside him were the other knights. The Scotti war cry sounded all around and echoed in his ears. Arthur lifted his sword and signaled the charge, Sarmatian war cry joining from the front lines. "Rus!"

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That's all for now! Please review if you liked it, hated it, loved it, wish I would stop writing it, whatever. It is helpful. Thanks to those who reviewed last chapter. Watch for another update next week!


	33. The Standoff

Thanks all for the reviews, it really does help. Sorry for taking so long with this chapter. I don't really have any good excuses. Maybe a few more reviews will help me write the next chapter quicker. *hint, hint* Hope you all like this one!

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Kayleigh listened to the clash outside. Though it seemed distant in her foggy mind, she came to the realization that soon the Saxons would come to her and end her life before there was any hope of rescue. The beatings had slaked some of their thirst for her blood but it wasn't enough. She had thwarted their invasion and they would not go down without seeking vengeance.

And go down they would. She had seen with her own two eyes the might of the Roman army. They crushed anything in their way, almost as ruthlessly as the Saxons. With Arthur and his knights at the front of the army and the Scotti Champions swarming in from the back, this fort had no chance of standing against them.

Moments later a Saxon brute appeared, unlocked Kayleigh's cell and hauled her to her feet. Her knees buckled below her and the man nearly had to carry her out. Bevyn was silent and motionless in his cell and Kayleigh wondered with a sick heart if he was dead. The Saxons had given him his share of beatings when they discovered her feelings of friendship toward him. That had been the worst that they could do. She would try to preoccupy the Saxons long enough to give him a chance for rescue if he was still alive.

At the door, the Saxon threw a blanket over her and finally threw her over his shoulder. Kayleigh nearly gagged, the smell of man sweat and ale filtered up into her nose through the blanket, his hand tight against her thighs to keep her still. For a moment, she struggled, fearing they would kill her without giving her the option of seeing it coming but the sound of arrows hissing past and the din of close combat penetrated the rough wool covering Kayleigh's head. No, she would be killed with more ceremony than that.

The man ran awkwardly across the clearing to the safety of another building. A door creaked and shut again behind them. Kayleigh was dropped to the floor, the cloth pulled from her. The Saxon leader, Eadwig, stood above her, face flushed with anger. He hauled her to her feet. She couldn't stop the grin from forming on her face, splitting her dry lips. There was no use holding back anymore. It didn't matter what he did to her, he had already lost. He would be dead by the end of the day and he knew it.

"Should you not be leading your men to death's door, not hiding here like a coward?" she asked in the Roman tongue, knowing he understood. She lacked the energy to do any physical damage but insulting his honor was nearly as sweet.

Eadwig's hand came back and fell against her cheek with a loud crack, sending her sprawling across the floor. A low, guttural laugh escaped Kayleigh's lips. "Is that your answer?" she asked at his startled face.

Growling, he reached down and pulled her up to his face by her hair. "I came to dispose of you before I join my men in victory," he said, breath heavy with wine.

"You must be drunk," Kayleigh said. "The only reason you would kill me is if you knew you would not live to torture me further." The men standing around the Saxon leader shifted nervously, murmuring amongst each other. "Oh, you were lying to give your men the courage to step outside into that battle and fight for you! So sorry to break the news," she called back to the other men.

Now Eadwig took her by the throat. "Suddenly you want to talk," he stated dryly. "Your tongue could be put to much better use than wagging carelessly in your mouth." Kayleigh would have spit in his face if her mouth weren't so dry.

Suddenly, the barred doors broke open sending splinters of wood darting through the air. Arthur and Lancelot stepped over the threshold, swords in hand. Tristan was behind them, arrow notched in place. The remaining men in the hall reached for their weapons, the shock slipping away slowly. A man screamed, holding his hand, half the arrow's shaft protruding from the other side.

Eadwig swung Kayleigh around, pressing her back against his chest and brought his dagger to her throat. Kayleigh laughed. "You think this will save you?"

"They would be foolish to let such an asset go," he said, breath hot against her ear. An involuntary shutter ran down her spine.

"Let the girl go, Saxon," Arthur's authoritative voice carried across the hall. "Your fight is with me, not with her."

"Is it not?" He mused in the Roman tongue. Arthur visibly flinched as he realized how deep the betrayal ran, so deep that this Saxon barbarian had learned to speak the language of the empire from one of their own.

"She is the spy that brought this invasion to a halt," Eadwig hissed.

"At least you admit it," Kayleigh stated sardonically.

"Silence or I will slice your throat open," he yelled, digging the blade into the delicate skin beneath her chin. She felt a trickle of hot blood make its way down between her breasts.

Tristan watched the Saxon through slitted eyes down the arrow he held ready between his fingers. At a glance he thought Kayleigh had lost her senses. Her hysterics and goading of the Saxon who had obviously inflicted a great amount of pain already did not seem like a rational decision.

Arthur was saying some nonsense to the madman trying to reason with him. Tristan bit his upper lip concentrating on his target. If Kayleigh could only move, he would have a clean shot…

Her eyes shot over and met his. He nearly flinched in surprise. It was almost as if she had heard his thoughts. Kayleigh cocked an eyebrow in amusement as he steadied himself but he noticed her eyes had lost that spark that used to dance there. Had the Saxons succeeded where the Romans had failed? Had they extinguished the fire that was her spirit?

Tristan wasn't sure what they had done to her in Rome, other than kill her brother. Something happened, though, that brought her prejudice and hate toward their kind to a higher level than any Tristan had seen. And he had seen many Sarmatian knights through the years seething with it.

Kayleigh's gaze now pierced him with something more than hate, something more than fear, which was another emotion he often saw in the depths of her eyes. This intensity he could not name, for he had never seen it before. It was unnerving and he longed to look away but could not. Then her eyes shifted to the glinting point of the arrow Tristan had drawn and her lip curled slightly. Her gaze returned to him and she gave a slight nod.

It was such a small movement, he wasn't sure of what he saw. Suddenly, Kayleigh's arms flashed up, hands gripping the Saxon's elbow, locking it in place, and she spun, pulling the big man around with her. Tristan let the arrow go and it slammed into the Saxon's exposed back, into the man's heart up to the fletching. The big man fell forward with the force, dead weight burying Kayleigh.

Tristan's arm was a blur as it moved to notch another arrow and let fly at the remaining Saxon men in the hall. Arthur and the other knights jumped to action, plowing down the shocked enemy. The room soon became silent, the quiet that follows only after death. Even Arthur had not spared any this time. The floor tiles were slippery with blood.

Lancelot and Tristan carefully lifted the Saxon leader's body off Kayleigh. She lay still, blood seeping from a wound in her back. Tristan realized with horror that it was his arrow that inflicted the wound. He had nearly skewered her along with the Saxon, his cold blood mingled with hers. Tristan swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.

Tristan kneeled down and gently rolled Kayleigh onto her back.

"Gods!" Lancelot exclaimed, taking a step back in surprise, drawing Arthur's attention.

Kayleigh's hand was clutched at her throat, blood running between her fingers and down her neck. Her eyes were wide with shock and a sweaty sheen appeared on her white face. She opened her mouth as if to speak but no sound came.

"Get her to the medicus, now!" Arthur ordered urgently.


	34. The End is Not the End

Thanks everyone for the adds and the feedback! Constructive critisism is also welcome, though not always acted upon, it can be helpful. It's been awhile and honestly this chapter is pretty short... but here it is!

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Kayleigh felt the blade bite into the delicate skin beneath her chin as she drew the Saxon man away from Arthur and his knights. She barely had time to process the thought that she was cut before the arrow slammed through Eadwig and buried its head in her back. The impact threw them forward and she was just able to twist his dagger away before landing on the hard floor.

Trapped beneath the dead weight, all she could do was grasp the wet, sticky wound at her neck and fight the impeding darkness. She felt Eadwig's blood flowing down, drenching her tunic and forming a puddle on the small of her back. She gasped for a breath of fresh air but only breathed in Eadwig's stench. The smell of wine and ale, raw animal hides, and man sweat made her gag. Then suddenly it was gone and the weight lifted.

The last of her strength spent, she lay there unmoving. It would either be a quick stab in the back or the help she had waited countless days for, depending on who had come out victorious in the quick battle. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and chided herself for ever doubting the knights' abilities. She grimaced as her back wound ground into the hard floor tiles and heard a gasp and a quick order.

Kayleigh opened her mouth to tell them Bevyn was in the prison still and needed help but nothing would come out. Tristan lifted her gently into his arms trying to avoid the puncture wound in her back. She was enveloped in the scent of horse, tree, and dirt. It was the smell of comfort. She relaxed briefly before she realized where he was taking her. Loosening the grip on her wound, she swallowed trying to wet her dry throat.

"Tristan," she croaked. After clearing her throat she tried again. "Tristan…" Though she knew she spoke loud enough for him to hear, his eyes continued to scan his surroundings but never her face.

"Don't speak."

"Tristan," she started, heart pounding rapidly in her chest. "Don't let them take me back."

His jaw tensed. "You are safe now," he said continuing to avoid eye contact.

Knowing he did not understand, she grasped the neck of his armor, forcing him to lean down towards her. He stopped, reluctantly looked into her eyes. She saw a quick glimpse of guilt there before his defenses rose again.

She swallowed, feeling almost guilty at witnessing a split second of raw emotion in him. "Do not let them send me back," she said again. "You must stop them or I will die there."

Tristan began walking again, dismissing her delirium. Maybe she had lost her mind.

"Tristan!" her voice was desperate now, pleading, "Please!"

He gave her a stiff nod.

"Swear it!"

"I swear," he whispered.

Though Kayleigh knew he didn't know what he was swearing to, she also knew he would not go back on his word. Kayleigh would have never made him swear it if she weren't so desperate, realizing it would possibly put the chance of his freedom forever out of reach. Tristan would grasp the meaning of her request soon enough, she only hoped he would find a way to keep his honor and his life.

"I'm sorry," she whispered before giving in to the pain and darkness.

Tristan cursed as Kayleigh's hand slid from her throat, exposing her oozing wound. "Out of the way!" he yelled as the bustling bodies of soldiers grew dense around him.

"Move!" he bellowed.

The crowd hushed at the loud outburst, most hearing the silent knight's voice for the first time. They parted for him slowly as Tristan plowed through, their eyes watching curiously.

"Tristan, here!" Dagonet called from the temporary medical base. He started when he recognized the smaller figure Tristan carried and gasped as Tristan set her down gently.

Dagonet removed a clean cloth from a bag of supplies and handed it to Tristan. "Hold this firmly to the wound but be sure not to cut off her air flow. She is beyond my skill," Dagonet said and turned to find the _chirurgii_.

Dagonet returned shortly, a stump balding man trotting behind him. The older man did not look too pleased to be taken from whatever duty he had been attending beforehand. Tristan knew Dagonet could be … persuasive when he chose.

Tristan moved aside as the man began examining Kayleigh. The knight's hand moved instinctively to his dagger as the physician poked and prodded the length of Kayleigh's still body.

Finally, the _chirurgii_ turned to Dagonet, shaking his head. "The laceration to the neck is shallow, a mere superficial cut. It missed the major arteries and therefore, is not fatal." The man frowned as he continued, "However, there is an extensive amount of damage inflicted to the body – broken bones, joints out of place, perhaps internal injuries… I'm afraid there is not much hope."

"Make some," Tristan growled, advancing on the man. This never should have happened. He should have insisted that she stay by his side during the battle and not gallivanting after the Scotts. He would have kept her safe. Of course, any such demand would have only pushed her to the furthest spot on the battlefield that she could possibly be from him.

Dagonet put a hand on Tristan's shoulder. "She is the reason we are all still alive," he told the _chirurgii_. "Arthur would be very upset to hear you refused to attempt to heal her."

The stout man glanced up at Dagonet and then Tristan. He concede with a grunt. "Understand that a body so inflicted will not return to its prior health," he warned. "I am but a man with a few skills. I will do what I can. Pray to the gods for the rest."

Dagonet gave a hint of a nod and put his arm around Tristan's shoulders turning the knight away. "Arthur will have work for you."

"Yes," Tristan agreed, shrugging Dagonet's arm from his shoulders. Dagonet slipped away returning to his own duties.

Tristan whistled and rose his hand as his hawk circled above. With a flutter, she landed lightly on his wrist. He ruffled the feathers beneath her chin as he strode back to the hall, men parting cautiously before him. The hawk squawked angrily into the air. "Eager to hunt some Saxons, are you?" he asked letting the bird again take flight. "I, too."


	35. Scars Remain

Thanks everyone for the fabulous reviews! They really help. I'm posting this chapter a bit early to make up for my last one taking so long. You may also thank whatever stomach bug I have that has made me useless in doing anything else. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

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Kayleigh knew what was coming. She tried desperately to stop her feet from taking the path they had taken nearly two years ago. The blood on her hands felt just as warm and sticky as it did then. The slaughter of the other slaves meant nothing to her. That they were in the same helpless situation as she was didn't enter her mind. They were an obstacle, that was all. They would only raise the alarm that she had escaped. It was the price of the few extra minutes she needed and at the time it was worth it.

Now, she knew better, although, she probably did them a favor by ending their lives. Every day was miserable serving such a cruel, malicious master. Still, she might have just killed the piece of scum Roman and his guards in the comfort of his own home. At least that would have allowed all the slaves a chance at freedom. _But, no_, she thought miserably as her feet continued to unwillingly move through the crowd, _I took the coward's way out_.

_Not before he got what he deserved, though._

The crowd around her parted and she had a clear view of the circus arena. The horses stamped the ground behind the gates in anticipation. An important man in the stand let a white cloth drift to the dirt and the chariots burst onto the track. The crowd roars, cheering for their charioteer of choice and cursing the others. The ground shakes as the racers pass, thunder drowning out the noise of the crowd.

Suddenly, a chariot wobbles and falls, shattering into pieces against the ground. The charioteer's wrists are caught in the reins and he struggles frantically to reach the dagger strapped to his chest for such an event. Kayleigh found herself smiling. It was just as her brother's "accident", though luckily he died much more suddenly. She watched as his murderer now hits a patch of uneven dirt and is flung lifelessly across the arena floor and then trampled by the horses of the remaining chariots.

_It is as they say_, she thought mercilessly, _what goes around comes around._

When she heard a shout, she was off into the crowd again, running and pushing people out of the way. Her lungs burned with exertion and her legs cramped below her but she continued on and did not stop until she reached the sea. With the sailors busy preparing to sail, it was easy to sneak aboard the first ship she saw. She settled down in the darkest corner she could find in the belly of the ship. Though she didn't know its destination, she knew it had to be better than this place.

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Tristan strode down the dusty road, Dagonet quiet beside him. Although he had never been in this particular fort, he knew where he was going. All forts were laid out exactly the same. Four roads dissected the camp with the _Praetorium_ sandwiched in the middle of the soldiers' barracks for protection. The _Praetorium_ consists of the officer's quarters, the storehouse, and the hospital- their destination.

As the closest fortress to that final battle with the holed up Saxons, Kayleigh had been brought here for the hardest part of her healing process. As luck had it, it was also the fortress where the _chirurgii _resided year round. Arthur had finally received the message that she was stable enough to move and he immediately sent Dagonet and Tristan with a cart to retrieve her.

The hunting of Saxons and the death of a few Woads in some recent uprisings helped Tristan release some of the anger he held for Kayleigh's condition. He was glad that after a few weeks, the Scotts finally left. Their presence only enraged Tristan further, after all, it was them she had been fighting alongside.

Gawain didn't dare speak to him. They fought silently together on missions and drank silently on opposite ends of the tavern from each other. Tristan partly blamed the younger knight, having left her in the forest wounded. But mostly Tristan blamed himself.

Dagonet paused at the door and after a nod from Tristan they entered the dark building. An assistant showed them to the small room in which Kayleigh occupied, then turned to retrieve the _chirurgii._

The small room was lighted by a candle on the bedside table and a braiser, which at the moment was dark and cold. The knights stood a moment in the doorway, allowing their eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Tristan moved away to the farthest corner of the room and watched as Dagonet started checking her vitals. Her cheeks looked hollow and drained of color, her arms where thin as branches, and her chest rose only slightly with quick, shallow breaths.

"She looks dead," Tristan commented as he leaned against the wall and folded his arms before his chest.

Dagonet glanced at him with disapproval. He knew Tristan was having a difficult time keeping his emotions in check, but his comment was overboard, even for him.

"Good, you are here," the _chirurgii _said as he entered the room. The plump man glanced toward Tristan in the darkness and his smile disappeared as he thought of his last encounter with the knight.

"How is she?" Dagonet asked redirecting the _chirurgii's_ attention back to his patient.

"Ah, yes, she does better. The neck wound has healed after a slight infection. The broken bones are knitting neatly and the bruising is gone," he offered. "She is yours to take."

"Did you feed her at all," Tristan asked from his corner, his irritation showing plainly now.

The man shifted his weight nervously. "We fed her broth as well as we could. On the one occasion she did wake, we tried to force her to eat but she was delusional—"

"Once? She woke once in three months?" Dagonet exclaimed.

Tristan gritted his teeth. He was beyond words.

"It's as if she does not want to return from where ever she is," the man babbled.

"Who would?" Tristan hissed. "When their _chirurgii _is as incompetent as you?"

"Are you sure she is well enough to move?" Dagonet asked the trembling man.

"If this _man_," Tristan spat with disgust, "couldn't kill her, a few miles won't. Let's go."

"Wait!" the _chirurgii _exclaimed as Tristan bent to lift Kayleigh. The man looked nervously from Tristan to Dagonet.

"Is there something else?" Dagonet asked, shooting Tristan a warning glance. He needed all the details so he could treat her properly once she was back at the fort.

"There are a few strange… markings," the man began as he pulled the blankets from Kayleigh's body. A low growl sounded from the dark corner of the room. The _chirurgii _put his hands up for Tristan to see. "There, on her leg," he motioned at Dagonet.

Dagonet glanced at Tristan. He took the candle from the bed stand to better see what the _chirurgii _spoke of. Shrugging, he looked back up at the _chirurgii._ "I see nothing."

The heavy man gulped loudly. "You must lift her shift a bit higher."

Tristan took a step forward, his hand going instinctively to the hilt of his dagger.

Dagonet gasped. Tristan's gaze followed the line of her white leg to the spot on her thigh that Dagonet sat inspecting. He could feel the flesh on his face burning with anger and embarrassment. He glanced up at Kayleigh's face, half afraid that her eyes would be staring back at him.

"Saxons?" Dagonet was asking when Tristan focused back on the conversation.

"No, it is an old scar, a brand. Whoever did it didn't know what they were doing. They pushed the metal too deep into the flesh. The scar tissue distorts the image," the _chirurgii _said.

"You seem to know too much about it," Tristan hissed.

The man shrugged. "I have seen many bodies of slaves."

"Slaves?"

"This is the brand of a slave," the man pointed out. "The brand looks familiar. Yes, I'm sure I've seen it in my time in Rome."

Suddenly the man's back was crushed into the wall and an arm pressed painfully into his chest. The man looked down Tristan's dagger blade, its point aimed at his left eye.

"It's just a scar," Tristan said, narrowing his deadly gaze at the trembling man. "You will think on it no more." The _chirurgii _cringed, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Understand?" The man nodded in reply, the loose skin beneath his chin quivering.

"Good." Tristan stepped back, sheathing his dagger as swiftly as he had drawn it and gathered Kayleigh in his arms before striding out the door. Dagonet followed quickly behind, leaving the shocked _chirurgii _gasping with shock in the room alone.

The stable boys had not had the chance to unhitch the horses before the knights had returned and drove the cart back out beyond the defensive walls. Tristan urged the horses into a faster pace as Dagonet finished settling Kayleigh in a pile of blankets. Once they were a good earshot away from any soldiers that might hear them, Dagonet spoke.

"Gods, Tristan, what was that about!"

"_Don't let them take me back."_ Kayleigh's words echoed in his mind.

"It was about honor."

"Honor?" Dagonet repeated with confusion.

"I gave her my word."

"You _knew_?"

Tristan shook his head, a loose braid falling into his eyes. "No. She knew they would find it. I swore I wouldn't let them take her."

They fell quiet as they each processed this new information.

"A slave? I can't believe it," Dagonet finally said. "Not her." He remembered how stubborn she was and how defiant she had been toward Arthur. None of them particularly liked Romans, having been forced into service to them. Kayleigh's unnatural hate and prejudice toward them made more sense now.

"She came here from Rome," Tristan said, bringing Dagonet from his thoughts. "How many Sarmatians have you heard of that wander freely around their capital?"

Dagonet nodded. "When you put it that way…"

"We must not tell Arthur," Tristan decided abruptly.

"Surely you don't think he would send her back to whatever man did this to her," he gestured to her leg.

Tristan shrugged. "I will not chance it."

Dagonet was quiet. Tristan turned on the bench to look back at him in the cart. "She saved your life more than once."

"Aye," Dagonet replied, looking down at her pale face. "I owe her."

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There you have it. Any imput is much appreciated. I'm kinda just going with the flow here so any ideas/criticisms are welcome.

BTW- last chapter's title is also the name of a song by House of Heros. It really doesn't relate to the content at all but is still a really great song! This chapter's title is also named after a song. Kudos to anyone who knows it!


	36. Return of Pervidius

Sorry again for the long wait. The last few weeks have been... stressful. Anyway, enjoy the read!

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"How is she?" Arthur asked, looking up from his stack of reports and messages. The forts along the eastern section of the wall were beginning the rebuilding and renovation process now that all Saxons had been run from the land.

"She lives," is all Tristan said, his eyes narrowing slightly. He had not forgotten that it was Arthur who had gotten Kayleigh into this whole mess. He had asked her to play Brogan to uncover the conspiracy he participated in.

"Has she spoken of the Saxons yet?" Arthur asked, continuing to sort through scrolls. Perhaps she could provide some information on why they had come and who had helped them.

"No," Tristan shook his head, "she has not woken."

Arthur frowned. "The journey was long and hard for her, I'm sure."

"She has woken once in three months," Tristan specified, his voice as sharp as his blade.

Arthur's gaze darted back to Tristan but he only caught a glimpse of his jacket trailing out the doorway.

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"You're dead," Kayleigh whispered unbelieving.

"Am I?" Pervidius asked. His stare of cold contempt gave her chills. "Are you?"

The Roman charioteer stood tall and proud a short distance from her. All the Roman women had swooned at the sight of him. His dark hair cropped short in the Roman style, steely grey eyes peering out from below a strong brow. They cheered in the arena to see him drive shirtless, his muscles working on display to control the reins. The memory of it made Kayleigh sick. She remembered them contract in rage and dark pleasure to control her.

Kayleigh shook her head, dislodging the sight. "No… no, this isn't real!"

"Did you really think death would rid you of me forever?" He laughed loudly. "You're still that stupid barbarian slave that you were two years ago. Just like your brother, Evr-"

"Don't you dare speak his name," she warned.

"He was weak. That's why he lost. That's why he died," the Roman taunted. "Do you remember?"

She heard the scream of the horses as they fell. The crowd cheering. Pervidius' laughter as his horses and chariot trampled her brother's broken body.

"He died because you killed him! Murderer!" Kayleigh screamed, unleashing the fury she buried for so long. She attempted to step forward to hit him but found herself unable to move.

Pervidius laughed mockingly at her. "And what are you? How many have you killed? How many innocent and helpless?"

"That was different-"

"No! It wasn't! You have blood on your hands, as much as I do," he gestured toward her.

Kayleigh looked down to see the warm, sticky liquid covering her hands. Holding them away from her body, she shook her head in horror. "It's not real," she reminded herself.

"And the murder that meant the most- my murder- you made to look like an accident. Why?" he questioned.

"Justice," Kayleigh stated, raising her chin. He had gotten what he deserved in the end.

"No," Pervidius disagreed. "You were a coward. You staged my death and stayed to watch. Why not kill me by your own hand?" he asked. He smiled wickedly before answering his own question, "Because you're a scared little girl."

"I owed it to my brother to live!" Kayleigh argued.

"Your methods dishonor your brother's memory. You are the reason he cannot move on to the land of his ancestors."

"No!" Kayleigh cried, clapping her now clean hands over her ears. _It's not real_, she said to herself repeatedly.

"You are the reason he suffers," the Roman pointed an accusing finger at her.

"No!" Kayleigh screamed.

* * *

Tristan burst through the door, dagger in hand. He glanced around the dark room. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Dagonet looked up at him from his spot beside Kayleigh's bed. Tristan looked as if he had been restless in bed this night as well. The normally careful knight had tossed his shirt on inside out and his usual disheveled hair was now a tangled mess. Dagonet opened his mouth to comment when Lancelot appeared behind Tristan.

"She dreams the past. Is it her brother's murderer again?" Lancelot asked Dagonet.

Dagonet shrugged. "Pervidius?"

Lancelot nodded.

"Her brother was murdered?" Tristan asked. "How did you know this?"

"I asked," Lancelot told him.

Tristan stared at him. Was it that simple? Ask Kayleigh a question and she answers?

"Actually, I nearly broke down the door in Eire. There was so much commotion coming from her room I thought she was being attacked," Lancelot explained. "She spoke aloud to me as if I were the killer. I stayed in her room that night, afraid she would hurt herself or another unintentionally."

Tristan looked away. It made sense now. Kayleigh was hurting and he had been foolishly jealous. He shook his head. How did he not see that? What else had he missed?

A groan from the bed caught all their attention. Kayleigh tossed her head side to side as if trying to rid whatever was in there. "No…"

For once, Tristan felt completely useless and looked at Dagonet for help.

"We should try waking her," Lancelot suggested.

Dagonet nodded and began shaking her. Physically she was well and there was no reason she shouldn't have already awoken on her own. "Kayleigh, wake up lass."

"Please… don't!" Tears began running down her white face.

"What is he doing to her?" Tristan growled, pushing Dagonet out of the way. He climbed on top of the bed and pulled Kayleigh to a sitting position, shaking her violently.

"This isn't the dream she had last time," Lancelot stated, his brow creasing with worry.

"Wake up, damn it!" Tristan yelled at her.

"Tristan, her neck!" Dagonet reminded him of her wound, which had healed into an angry red scar.

Tristan let go, letting her fall back onto the pillows and slapped her hard across the face. The other two knights jumped in surprise.

Kayleigh's eyes snapped open, darting around the room making sure _he_ was gone before shutting them tightly again, trying to stop the wave of tears that threatened to overwhelm her. But just as she suspected, once that dam broke, there was nothing to hold it all back.

Tristan leaned down and pulled Kayleigh into his arms, her sobs wracking both their bodies.

Dagonet cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'll see if I can get some food. She should eat," he said before slipping out into the hallway.

Lancelot stood, frowning, for a moment before heading out into the darkness of night to finish his watch.

Tristan smoothed the hair on Kayleigh's head with a shaky hand. For once, he wasn't quite sure what to do. He had never had to comfort a crying woman before. More precisely, he had never wanted to comfort anyone until now.

The only thing he could think to do was whisper meaningless words as he would if he were trying to calm his stallion. The grip Kayleigh had on Tristan's shirt loosened but the tears continued, burning a trail of wetness down his chest.

"You are safe with me," Tristan assured her, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kayleigh allowed his comfort to wash over her, embracing her like a warm blanket. Too weak yet to argue, she accepted his words and drifted back to blissful oblivion.


	37. A Thread of Hope

This chapter is a bit short. I really haven't been in the mood for writing. I had to put my dog down last week so pretty much all of my emotions are showing in this chapter. I know it's not living up to my previous chapters but I really don't care right now. Sorry.

* * *

Kayleigh forced her eyelids open. Though she seemed to constantly scream to herself to awaken, it never seemed to happen fast enough. These dreams -these nightmares- trapped her in this alternate world. It was hard to tell if it was just her guilty mind torturing her or if she were really being haunted by her brother's murderer and former master. Whichever it was, it was a battle just to bring herself to consciousness. Sleep was exhausting.

"Here," Dagonet helped raise her into a sitting position and pressed a cup of water into her hand.

Kayleigh's arm shook with effort to bring it to her lips, taking a sip of the cool, soothing liquid. Water had never tasted so good to her parched tongue.

"Not too fast," Dagonet warned, taking the cup from her.

She let her arm drop into her lap. "What's wrong with me?" Her cracked voice was barely a whisper and the sound of its weakness unleashed a flood of tears unwillingly.

"You are just tired," he said, giving her a comforting smile. "You will regain your strength and be good as new soon."

Kayleigh shook her head. "No, this is not me," she said, touching her fingers to a wet trail of a tear on her face. "I have not cried since I was a child."

"Then it is long since coming," Dagonet said, touching her shoulder. "There is only so much one can hold before it spills over."

"And how much do you hold?" she asked, knowing his life had not been an easy one either.

"Much," he admitted. "But I have brothers to help me with the burden."

"You have had fifteen years to gain their trust," she pointed out. "I haven't been here two years yet."

"And what do you see that makes you doubt their worth?"

Kayleigh hesitated.

Dagonet patted her leg as he rose. "Think about that as I fetch you some supper."

After finishing her meal, Kayleigh fought to stay awake for fear of what visions sleep would bring the next time around. With her belly full and warm for the first time in weeks, it was a losing battle.

_

* * *

_

Fire burned along the horizon. The steppes, once a green wave of tall grass, were engulfed in a storm of fire. All of its people with their flocks and herds were nowhere to be seen. Kayleigh coughed, choking on the thick smoke, the cloud burning her eyes. The flames licked the skin on her legs and she jumped back, a scream in her throat. Instead of burning, the flames felt like the breath of winter, cold and biting.

_Crying out for the help that she knew would never come, she began running blindly, desperate for a way out. Suddenly, the smoke cleared, the flames disappeared before her and she stepped out into an eerily still and silent world._

_Kayleigh took another step and felt the crunch of snow beneath her foot and heard the groan of weakening ice. Bending down, she swept the snow away to reveal a frozen lake. Movement under the hard surface caught her eye. She wiped the frost and dirt from the surface and jumped in surprise to see Dagonet's face staring back at her from below the surface._

"_Dagonet!" she cried, as she pounded on the ice, its shards cutting through the skin on her knuckles. Though it seemed as thin as glass, she could not break through. Dagonet's hand spread, pressed against the inside of the ice. Kayleigh halted and mirrored his gesture, the sheet of ice cold between their hands. All hope lost, Dagonet let the last breath in his lungs out, three bubbles rising as his body drifted down into the dark depths._

* * *

"No! Dagonet!"

Kayleigh shot upright in bed. She couldn't catch her breath and her heart was racing as if she had just run a long distance.

"Dagonet is fine," Gawain assured her from the seat beside her bed. "It was just a dream."

Kayleigh put a hand on her chest, trying to keep her heart from jumping out. "It didn't feel like a dream." She fell back down into the pillows with a sigh.

"Do you need anything?" Gawain asked.

"No," Kayleigh replied absently, still trying to make sense of the strange dream. At least that Roman murderer hadn't invaded her dreams this time around.

"Dagonet would want you to eat and drink," Gawain startled her from her thoughts.

"Fine," Kayleigh said, throwing a blanket off. There were an unusual amount of blankets and furs covering her. "Is all of this really necessary?"

Gawain shrugged. "The only thing you haven't said while you sleep is if you are cold or warm," he said before leaving her alone in the room.

Kayleigh wondered what exactly she had been saying, and whose ears had heard it. Did it even matter? Dagonet was right. She did trust the knights, though there were some things that they were better off not knowing, for their own good.

Gawain returned shortly with a plate of food and some water. "I'm glad you're doing better," he commented as he watched her pick at her meal.

Kayleigh nodded.

"I was really worried."

Kayleigh smiled and patted his shoulder with her free hand. "Dagonet says I will be good as new after some more rest, though I don't know how much more I can handle of that," she said with a snort.

"If I had known what would happen… I never should have left you out there on that hill injured."

Kayleigh, confused, was quiet for a moment. A short burst of laughter escaped from her throat and Gawain looked at her wide-eyed with surprise.

"I'm sorry, Gawain," she said at last. "That is the last thing on my mind. I told you to leave me there. You shouldn't feel bad about a decision I made."

"I do."

Kayleigh grasped his hand, suddenly. "I almost forgot!" she exclaimed. "My boots! Get my boots!"

Gawain hesitated. "I really don't think you should be going anywhere."

Kayleigh chuckled again and the sound of it made Gawain smile. "It's the only place the Saxons wouldn't find it."

"Find what?" Gawain asked, handing her her boots.

Kayleigh searched for a moment before pulling out a long gray cord. "This! Sorry, it's a bit dirty," she said, brushing it off. Then she leaned over and pulled her small bag of belongings from under the bed, half surprised that it hadn't been stolen. After rummaging through it for just the right piece, she finally withdrew a horse pendant and threaded the cord through it.

"It's for you," she said, presenting it to him.

"Me?" Gawain asked, stunned.

Kayleigh nodded. "See the cord?"

Gawain took it, looking at it more closely. His bright eyes looked back up at her. "Is this…?"

"Yes," Kayleigh said. "You didn't see me cut the lock of hair from her tail, you were in shock and delirious."

Gawain remembered that tragic event all too well. The Saxons had cut his horse down from under him on the battlefield. His chest hurt now just to think on it. He had thought he lost everything, but here he held in his hand a part of his beloved horse and the pain didn't cut as deep.

"I didn't have much else to do waiting for you knights to rescue me," she said with a shrug, trying to make light of the moment.

"Thank you," Gawain said, feeling that those two simple words would never show how much her gift meant to him.

"You're welcome," Kayleigh replied with a smile. She looked around the room and groaned. "Could you do one more thing for me?"

"Anything," he replied.

"Will you open the window? These walls seem to close in on me farther every day."

"I know how you feel," Gawain said as he walked across the room to the window. "I would be suffocating if I were in here as long as you have."

Kayleigh cocked her head. "I haven't been in here that long, have I?" she asked.

Gawain laughed. "Time must pass more slowly in whatever dream world you've been living in," he said as he opened the window, a few flakes of snow drifting in. "You've slept through two seasons."


	38. Starry Knight

Thanks everyone for all the nice thoughts. I am doing a lot better though I really, really miss my dog. Anyway, this chapter probably would have been posted a few days ago if my internet were working correctly. So here it is and I also have the next chapter mostly written so that will be following soon also (if I can connect).

* * *

Kayleigh only made it half way up the stairs before sliding down to sit on a cold step. Biting back an angry curse, she leaned back, propping her elbows on the next stair. The cold air was cleansing and she took a deep breath of it into her lungs. Holding it for a moment, she gazed up into the moonless sky. Feeling the burning in her chest, Kayleigh let the air flow free in a puff of cloud.

"It's too cold for you out here," came Tristan's voice from the parapet above.

"Yes," she agreed, "But the fresh air will do me good."

"Did Dagonet say that?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

"No," she said glancing up at him with a devilish grin. "He's sleeping in the chair beside my bed."

Tristan turned to descend the stairs effectively hiding a smile he couldn't hold back. "You are doing well," he stated as he approached.

Kayleigh shrugged not able to agree with his assessment.

"You're back to your old tactics."

"Sneaking around like a coward? Yes, just like old times," she said as bloody images of Rome surfaced in her mind.

"Stubborn and independent," he corrected her with a slight frown.

She sighed. "I just needed to get out of that room."

He nodded understandingly.

"My goal was the top," she gestured with her head to the top of the wall. "To see the sky again, without any interference, would almost remind me of home. But I have only made it this far before tiring," she revealed.

Tristan's brow creased slightly. Admitting a weakness was something Kayleigh would never have done a couple months ago. Perhaps she wasn't as healed as he had hoped.

She surprised him further by reaching a thin hand up toward him. Tristan took it, helping her stand, and they made their way slowly up the remainder of the stairs.

"Thank you," she said suddenly.

Tristan gave her a quick nod.

"I mean for keeping your promise," Kayleigh elaborated. "I knew whoever treated my wounds would find the… scar." Looking down at the next stair, she allowed her hair to fall over her face to hide the shame that lay there.

Tristan was silent, aware that this was a sensitive topic.

"It wasn't fair to force you to swear to something to which you had no knowledge," she continued after a moment. "For that I'm sorry."

They finally reached the top and Kayleigh leaned forward resting on the cold stones of the parapet. Beyond the wall it was silent save for the rustling of leaves in the trees when a gust blew through.

"You didn't force me into anything. I would have protected you had you trusted me with your secret," Tristan replied quietly.

"It's not that I don't trust you. I do. It's not a part of my past I enjoy revisiting," she said, thinking of her dreams. "I was a slave." It felt strange to say it aloud. It hurt but somehow, it was a relief at the same time.

"I still am," Tristan murmured. "But after another six moons, I'll be as free as you."

Kayleigh touched his arm. "I pray to the gods you'll be free of it then. My past haunts me even now."

"Pervidius," Tristan spat with disgust.

Kayleigh gripped the edges of her cloak closer in to her chest as the biting wind whipped her hair from its place inside her hood. A shudder ran through her body as she turned back toward the lands of the Woads. Suddenly, as if the wind had blown away the fog that hid them, a thousand fires burned out along the dark expanse. Bodies of many men milled around the flames.

Kayleigh gasped in horror.

"What is it?" Tristan asked from beside her. His eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon where she stared but found nothing. Prying her white knuckled hands from the stone before her, he turned her toward him. Her face had drained of color and her eyes seemed to look straight through him.

"Kayleigh?" Tristan took her face in his hands, searching her eyes. They didn't seem to be able to focus on him. "Kayleigh," he called her name again, giving her a slight shake.

Kayleigh blinked up at him, gripping his forearms to steady herself, his breath warm on her skin. "Saxons… they are here for me," she muttered.

"Nothing is there," Tristan said, withdrawing his hands so she could see for herself.

He was right. The field was empty and dark as it was before. Kayleigh shook her head. "I thought I saw…" She noticed Tristan was watching her carefully, concern showing plainly in his features. "Nevermind."

"We should get you back inside," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders to steady her and keep her warm.

Kayleigh nodded absently.

* * *

"You're sure all her wounds are healed?" Tristan asked again.

Dagonet nodded. Tristan had told him about her episode on the palisade moments ago. He had not been pleased to awaken to an empty room. Just as he opened the door to search for Kayleigh, Tristan was bringing her in. She seemed dazed but well enough physically. The two knights took their discussion into the hallway as she fell into exhaustion.

"The wounds she received will leave scars but…" he trailed off, not wanting to reveal any more than he should.

"But what?" Tristan asked in a tone that gave Dagonet little choice.

"She will hardly notice the new ones amongst the old ones."

Tristan clenched his jaw to prevent him from lashing out at the wrong person.

Dagonet watched as Tristan tried to control his anger. He had never seen his friend so upset about anything before. "Perhaps she just pushed herself too hard. She needs to rest awhile longer and she will be fine," Dagonet said, trying to soothe the knight's temper.

Tristan shook his head. "This is more than fatigue. Something is wrong with her!"

"Did you expect her to walk out of the Saxon encampment the same as she was before?" Dagonet asked.

"No, I didn't expect her to be alive still," Tristan growled. "Of all the villages the Saxons took, they left only bodies." The images of the strewn and burnt bodies flashed through his mind. He punched the wall angrily.

Dagonet watched him quietly. He knew Tristan had been holding this back for awhile. It would be better to let it out so he waited.

"Death was merciful," Tristan continued after a moment. "They kept her alive only to torture her."

"Are you saying she would be better off dead?" Dagonet asked.

"She would have been better off if they had killed her immediately. It doesn't matter now. The damage is already done."

"Damage can be repaired," Dagonet reminded Tristan.

* * *

I know this chapter is really serious, it really reflected my mood at the time. The next chapter is lighter in the beginning and overall a lot better. So there's something to look forward to. Oh, and the grand entrance of my dearly departed pup, Toby!


	39. Recovery

Well, here it is. This is a pretty long chapter so enjoy!

* * *

Kayleigh woke with a start and a scream resounded in the small room.

"Oh, gods, beg your pardon," Lavena apologized. "You gave me a fright," she said, clapping a hand over her chest.

Kayleigh smiled at her old friend. She had not seen the maid in… Still a little fuzzy on what part of the season it was, she could not say. It was at least past mid-winter. The days were short and the nights were long, dark, and cold. It seemed to fit her mood well.

"Sorry," Kayleigh said. "I've been having these dreams."

"About the Saxons?" Lavena asked. "It must have been so horrible!" The small woman came over and sat down, taking Kayleigh's hand in hers to comfort her.

Kayleigh smiled. Nobody had even so much as mentioned the Saxons. She was glad Lavena wasn't walking on egg shells around her. Lavena always said what she meant, blunt and direct. That's what Kayleigh liked about her.

"No, not about the Saxons," Kayleigh assured her.

"Oh, that's good," Lavena replied, dropping her hand and standing up. She smoothed her skirts and continued the task she was sent to perform before Kayleigh had woken. "Dagonet said you were well enough for a proper bath, so he helped me bring this up," she said gesturing toward the small tub in the center of the room.

"You are a goddess, Lavena!" Kayleigh exclaimed. "I'm afraid it will take one to get all these tangles out," she sighed, attempting to run a hand through her dull hair.

Lavena beamed at Kayleigh's compliment. "Those will be no trouble after a good soaking. I'll get some breakfast for you and have some water heated."

Kayleigh nodded appreciatively and the maid turned out toward the kitchens.

After her meal and bath, Kayleigh sat in the chair in her room and Lavena applied long steady strokes to Kayleigh's hair with a brush. When she was finished, Kayleigh's hair was a curtain of soft, shining strands.

"Thank you, Lavena," Kayleigh hugged the woman. "You wouldn't believe how much better I feel, now."

"You're welcome," Lavena replied. "I am glad I could help. I was afraid to see you at first. When you came back in the wagon, you looked close to death." Lavena laughed. "I'm sorry. That was selfish of me. You were nearly killed and I was scared! Foolish!"

"No, no it's not," Kayleigh comforted her. "I am glad you came today."

A knock sounded on the door and Tristan entered after a moment. His dark eyes scanned the room quickly taking everything in.

"I will leave you," Lavena said, watching Tristan. "I will send someone up for the tub later."

Kayleigh thanked her and Tristan gave her a curt nod as she left the room.

"Arthur wants to see you," he told Kayleigh once the door was closed again.

Kayliegh sighed. "I suppose this is about the Saxons?"

"Probably," Tristan replied. He gestured to her hair. "You never wear it down. It looks nice."

Kayliegh felt her face flush as she muttered a thank you. When she looked back up at him, there was a hint of a smile on his face.

"Can I ask you something before we go?"

Tristan shrugged and sat down on the bed opposite her.

"I… I just want to be prepared," she explained.

Tristan nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"Bevyn's dead, isn't he?"

"Yes," Tristan replied truthfully.

"I suspected," Kayleigh said. "Everyone has been avoiding the subject of the Scotts, and his name hasn't been uttered around me."

Tristan nodded again. She was ill, not dumb. He knew she would figure it out sooner or later. It didn't take much time.

"What happened?" she asked.

"He was dead in the prison when we got there," Tristan replied. "Beaten and tortured."

That was as much as Kayleigh guessed. The Saxons knew they were allies at least, friends at most. They were not as careful to keep him alive as they had been with her. "Where are the Scotts now?"

"They took the body home to bury. We received a message that their villages were destroyed in their absence. They decided to seek new lands here, north of the wall."

"In Woad territory?" Kayleigh asked, astonished.

"Yes, a distant ancestor had settled here and formed his own tribe on fertile ground. The Scotts seek to join them."

"Perhaps after Rome has gone from this island peace will be possible," Kayleigh mused.

"Too many of our people have died at their hands for me to welcome such a pact," Tristan replied quietly.

Kayleigh saw a glimpse of sorrow in his eyes before the blank mask was back in place. A shiver ran down her spine. _He looked up, sword to his neck, watching his hawk circle with the same mournful look in his eyes. On his cheek, blood splattered like red freckles were a bright contrast to his ashen face. Death held him tight in his grasp._

Kayleigh shook her head, clearing the image, then rubbed her eyes wearily.

"What is it?" Tristan asked, noticing the change.

"Nothing," Kayleigh said dismissively. "It's nothing. Let's just get this over with." She stood.

Tristan offered his arm to her in the hallway. Kayleigh looked at him questionably. When he smirked, she laughed and took his arm.

"You… smell good," he said as they walked down the hallway, causing her to blush again. He thought this reaction was more enjoyable than the previous angry toss of the hair he used to receive. Then he thought of her smart responses that usually followed and decided they were equally as pleasing.

The great hall fell to silence when they entered. Kayleigh and Tristan instantly dropped their interlocked arms as the knights stared. They separated, walked to their usual seats across from each other at the round table, and sat.

Kayleigh looked down at her hands, refusing to meet the glances of any of the men. Tristan's intimidating stare caused the knights' eyes to seek a different target.

Arthur cleared his throat. "You seem to be doing better, Kayleigh. I am glad Dagonet's reports have been accurate in his assessment of your health."

"Reports?" Kayleigh repeated nervously. She had not asked Dagonet to keep her secret. Surely, he had seen it. She glanced at Dagonet, who gave her a reassuring smile, and then at Tristan, who gave her a short nod. Their actions allowed her to relax a little.

"Yes," Arthur explained. "We have all been worried about you." The knights around the table nodded and murmured in agreement.

"Thank you," Kayleigh replied. "I am doing well now."

"That is why I have sent for you," Arthur said. "I wanted to give you proper time to heal before discussing anything that may upset you. I'm afraid it can wait no longer. We need to know what happened in the Saxon camp. Is there anything you can tell us about their intentions?"

"They knew it was I who thwarted their invasion and they wanted me to suffer," Kayleigh stated plainly. She almost felt sorry for him when she saw a look of guilt cross his features. "Which means one of your traitors escaped," Kayleigh continued.

Arthur shook his head. "That is impossible. They are all accounted for."

"Then you have one still in your midst. There is no other way they would have known it was me."

"Arthur, you must find this man," Lancelot implored. "Kayleigh is still in danger while he's out there."

"We are all in danger," Arthur agreed. "Did they speak his name or did you see anyone you recognized?"

Kayleigh shook her head. "Only a few of the men in command could speak Latin. I could not understand their native language."

The room was quiet. Arthur obviously thought she would have more information. Kayleigh racked her memory for anything helpful.

"There was something," Kayleigh remembered. "A man. He didn't look like the rest of them." She closed her eyes trying to conjure his image to her mind's eye.

"What did he look like?" Gawain asked curiously.

Kayleigh frowned. "He was in shadow most of the time, apart from the inner circle of Saxons."

"An outsider," Lancelot commented.

"He was not a warrior. He never left the safety of the hall. He was small in comparison to the Saxons."

"Not a soldier, then. Maybe a villager?" Galahad suggested.

"A villager wouldn't know the workings of our fort," Arthur pointed out.

Kayleigh sighed, opening her eyes. "That's all. I have nothing else."

Arthur nodded. "Thank you. I know this couldn't have been easy. You have served Rome well."

"I did what I had to," Kayleigh replied harshly. "It had nothing to do with Rome."

"Yes, well," Arthur continued awkwardly, "you are free to go if you wish. Of course you are welcome to stay if you would like."

Kayleigh glanced around the table at the knights. "I really don't know where I would go… Perhaps I could stay awhile until I decide."

"Wait another six months and you will have a few travel companions for the long road home," Lancelot said with charming grin.

Kayleigh didn't have the heart to tell him home didn't exist anymore.

* * *

In the morning, Kayleigh donned her cloak and headed out into the cold, white world. Snow she had seen before but here is seemed always to be gray and gloomy. She longed to see the bright blue sky, a few wisps of cloud the only thing hindering her wide arch.

After wandering the small town that surrounded the fort, she ended up in the stables. She was disappointed to see that she didn't have the place all to herself. Hagan, the stable boy was working early at his duties, cleaning stalls. Avoiding him, she went directly to the young colt's large corner with his mother.

The young horse was now steady on his feet and growing quickly. Kayleigh checked him over thoroughly and found him to be in good health, a considerable improvement from his still form at birth. She moved on to his mother, picking up a brush.

"Should you be back working in here already?" Lancelot asked as he entered the stables.

"Why not? Dagonet says I'm fully healed," Kayleigh said, slightly annoyed that she was always asked if she had permission to be doing what she was doing. "Besides, I'm not working. I'm visiting. Aren't I, Fury?" she asked the mare she was brushing. The horse nudged Kayleigh with her nose in response.

A low growl sounded from across the stables followed by a curse.

"Get out of here, mutt!" Hagan, the stable boy yelled, kicking hay in the dog's direction.

"Oh leave him alone," Kayleigh said, then whistled. The dog whirled and ran to her. Kayleigh ripped at piece of bread from the chunk in her sack and threw it to him. "Good boy!" she exclaimed when the dog jumped and caught it in his mouth mid-air.

Leaning down, she picked a few pieces of straw from his mass of black fur. Excited to get some positive attention, the dog's tail wagged furiously, causing his whole body to sway back and forth.

"You know, if you keep feeding the strays they will keep coming back," Hagan complained.

"Oh, so all we need to do is stop feeding you and you'll go away?" Kayleigh asked him pointedly.

Hagan huffed, turned on his heel, and stomped off angrily.

"You shouldn't be so hard on him," Lancelot commented. "His work here has really improved in your absence."

Kayleigh snorted. "He nearly killed Fury with his ignorance." The dog barked up at her. "And the dog doesn't like him either."

"Because you're rewarding it with food for its bad behavior!" Lancelot exclaimed.

"Toby is a _he_," Kayleigh corrected him. "And _he_ is an excellent judge of character, as are most animals."

Kayleigh knelt down and Toby jumped, placing his front paws on her thighs to lean up and lick her face. She took his fury head in her hands and scratched behind his floppy ears. "Oh, you are so cute!"

Lancelot raised an eyebrow. "That dog has a face only a mother could love! Look at those teeth!" he exclaimed, pointing out the dog's stained under bite.

"You will scare away all the bad men then, won't ya boy?" Kayleigh looked up at Lancelot with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Starting with him!" she exclaimed, jumping up and pointing at the knight.

"What?" Lancelot questioning, thinking he heard that wrong. The dog turned toward him and began to growl. Lancelot took a cautious step back. The dog began to bark and advance toward him. "No!" Lancelot yelled, then turned and ran. "Bad dog!" he yelled as he raced out of the stables, the dog at his heels.

Kayleigh collapsed into a pile of straw, laughing hysterically.


	40. The Blinding Darkness

The bitter cold winter slowly gave way to warmer weather. The snow and ice melted, the first green shoots broke through the hard ground, and the skeleton trees stood in an almost unnoticeable green haze. The most distinctive change of the coming season was not the landscape, but the moods of the knights. The air was tense with impatience, anxiety, and eagerness in anticipation for their release from Roman service.

Woad activity had increased once the snows had subsided. More Roman troops had been pulled from the wall to defend other borders subsequently leaving Arthur's knights to respond to more of the uprisings. Surviving another few weeks soon became the only objective for most of the men. Dying mere days before freedom was granted seemed like the worst fate imaginable after fifteen years of fighting for the enemy.

Kayleigh put in long hours training Fury to be a suitable war horse. The mare had known these things before and progressed quickly. Kayleigh slept less, troubled by the dark visions of her dreams. The images began coming to her more frequently during the day. An arrow penetrating an armored chest, an axe breaking ice, a weapon that spits fire. Disturbing as it was, none of these images meant anything to her and she soon dismissed them, having bigger issues to deal with.

"Do you think the gods punish us after we die for the evil we have done during our life here on earth?" Kayleigh asked Galahad suddenly at the tavern.

Galahad swallowed.

"Oh don't get him started on the religious talk," Gawain warned.

Galahad shot him a look. "I don't think the gods would wait until we die to punish us. They would most likely do it immediately, or at least while we lived to suffer their wrath."

Kayleigh nodded. That made sense. But it seemed to her like she received her punishment first, in the form of her family being slaughtered and her brother taken before she committed any offense toward the gods.

"Why do you ask?" Gawain finally asked, unable to hold back his curiosity.

"What do you think it would mean if one died but the gods sent this person back to continue living?" Kayleigh asked, ignoring Gawain's question.

"What do you mean? It would be a second chance," Galahad stated, looking at her like she was crazy for not coming to the same conclusion.

Kayleigh thought about that. A second chance for what? Sure, she wished her life would have been different but what could she do about it now? There was so much evil in her past…

"Maybe the gods just turned their backs on this person," Kayleigh said.

"No, that doesn't fit," Galahad said. "If they had, the spirit would wander between worlds, not be sent back to live."

Kayleigh frowned. This sounded like her brother's spirit Galahad spoke of, not hers. He hadn't moved on to the Otherworld yet. But her brother had never offended the gods in his life.

Tristan sat down on the bench beside Kayleigh, their arms touching. Gawain and Galahad exchanged looks and tried not to smile knowingly.

Tristan glanced at Kayleigh. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," Kayleigh replied taking a sip of the drink he had brought her. She would catch him watching her carefully, concern showing openly. It made her nervous.

"Not nothing," Tristan replied quietly. "When you are deep in thought, a line appears here," he said, tracing the line on her forehead with a finger.

Kayleigh slapped his hand away in frustration. The table was enveloped in a shocked silence. Instantly, she regretted it. Folding her arms on the table, she dropped her head down into them with a sigh. Their relationship was a fragile one and she doubted he would attempt such a move again. The only repair she could think of was to give him the truth.

Kayleigh took a deep breath and sat back up. Now all the men were watching her carefully.

"When I was in prison, after being captured by the Saxons," she hesitated, "I- I died."

Beside her, Tristan paled. Gawain was speechless.

"You think the gods have forsaken you," Galahad connected the dots.

Kayleigh nodded miserably. "Or I'm being punished."

"For what?" Gawain asked.

"A mistake I made in the past," she replied cryptically.

"It couldn't have been that bad," Galahad said, wondering. When she said nothing, he stated, "You have just been given a second chance. You should be happy."

Kayleigh shrugged. "I was ready," she said hoping that didn't offend them. "It was I who should have died, and Bevyn who lived."

There was a moment of silence as they thought about the Scotti warrior who was so full of life.

"You must live your life. Live it the way you wish your past would have been," Galahad suggested. "Live it for Bevyn."

Kayleigh nodded.

"So, what was it like? Dying?" Gawain couldn't help asking.

Galahad elbowed him in the ribs starting a wrestling match in the middle of the tavern. Kayleigh risked a glance at Tristan, wondering what he thought about what she had said but the stoic mask was neatly back in place.

* * *

"You always seem to get stuck with the early watch," Kayleigh said to Lancelot as she climbed the stairs of the wall.

"I request it," Lancelot turned and watched her approach. It did not take her as long as it had a couple months ago to conquer those stairs. "It is better to be up and preoccupied than laying in bed staring at the ceiling."

"Trouble sleeping?" Kayleigh asked, concerned.

Lancelot shrugged. "As the time of the bishop's arrival approaches, I find it increasingly difficult," he told her.

Kayleigh was also anxious about the bishop's arrival but for other reasons. Rome is a large city but there were few slaves that escaped leaving such a deep trail of blood in her wake. What if she was recognized? The only way she would return to Rome was if she were dead.

"Are you not feeling well?" Lancelot asked her, pulling her from her thoughts.

Kayleigh shook her head. "I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile.

"It is true," Lancelot said slowly. "You died in the hands of the Saxons, didn't you?"

Kayleigh nodded.

"What happened?"

"I was injured in the forest when they captured me. In the prison, I was so tired. I was tired of living, tired of running, tired of fighting." She paused, thinking.

Lancelot took her hand in his. Kayleigh had not realized how cold she was until she felt his warmth. A shiver ran through her. "Not again…" she whispered as her vision darkened. She was vaguely aware of Lancelot's concerned voice and his arms catching her steadily.

_It was dark. So dark that her eyes were sore from straining to see something, anything._

"_You will not be granted entrance to the Land of the Ancestors. You have not fulfilled your destiny," a voice warned. It was familiar somehow yet she did not recognize it._

"_All these things have happened to bring you to where you are now, and more will happen to take you where you need to go."_

"_Why is this happening to me?" she asked into the darkness. "Why am I being punished?"_

_There was a deep rumble of laughter. Like distant thunder, it was felt, not heard. "This is not about you. Your choices affect more than yourself. You have the power to impact history," the voice resonated through the space around her._

"_How?"_

"_Take heed of the visions sent to you. They are not to be discarded as yesterday's refuse."_

"_And the dreams?"_

_The air around her vibrated with amusement once more. "That is your own doing."_

"_What do you mean?" she demanded._

"_Watch your tone, human. You are but a speck of dust to me."_

"_A speck of dust that can change history?" she challenged._

"_Indeed." The air was thick with silence. "You have a dark side," it stated finally. "You have buried it in attempt to hide it. It will not abide by your will."_

"_How do I rid myself of it?" she asked, frustrated that he only told her what she already knew._

"_It is you. How can you part with yourself? Accept it. Embrace it. Use it."_

"_But—"_

The darkness suddenly fled and the presence was gone. Kayleigh became aware of Lancelot's hands griping her shoulders and the cold stone hard against her back. The lightening sky was harsh on her eyes and she shielded them with her hand with a groan. Her head felt like it had been bashed in by Gawain's mace.

Lancelot was loudly calling her name and she gripped his hand to quiet him. "Lancelot…"

"What happened? What's wrong? Who were you talking to?"

"Slow down," she said, gripping her head in her hands as if it would fall apart if she didn't. "My head."

"Come," Lancelot said, helping her to her feet. As soon as she was standing, he knees gave way below her.

"Here," Lancelot said, and the pinks and oranges in the sky swirled around Kayleigh as he lifted her into his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder to stop the movement and the invading light of the rising sun. "Let's get you to Dagonet."

* * *

Wait-what? What just happened? I think she's getting a soft spot for Lancelot now. Ugh! You just can't control these characters! I had better whip Tristan into shape or he's going to lose her to the charmer. Whip Tristan... hmmm. ;-)


	41. Like a Fox

This is a super short chapter but I like it. I hope you do too. Time to speed up this story.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Tristan asked, striding into the stables, his jacket billowing out behind him.

"Leaving," Kayleigh snapped, tightening a strap on Fury's saddle.

"Where to?" Tristan asked, leaning against the stall's wall watching her casually.

Kayleigh shook her head. "Does it matter? Away from here!"

"It does," Tristan replied calmly. "Where to?"

She tied her pack to the horse and threw up her hands. "I don't know! The Scotts."

"Through Woad territory? You'll be killed."

"They are not my enemy," Kayleigh replied, continuing to work.

"That is no matter. You are not their kind," Tristan stated.

"I cannot stay here any longer, Tristan. You and the men watch me as if waiting for me to break." She couldn't take it anymore, and after this morning's vision there was a renewed urgency to move on.

"You are not well."

"No. I have not been well for a very long time," Kayleigh agreed as she mounted the mare. "Now move out of the way before I run you through!"

"I will not let you die again!" he shouted, pulling her from the horse. She landed in a pile of hay on top of him. She looked down at him in shock, then anger, and tried to push herself up but he rolled, pinning her below him.

"Listen," he said, controlling his anger. "Dagonet can help you. We will look after you."

"Look after me? Like a child, you mean?" she asked, continuing to struggle to free herself.

"No," Tristan growled in frustration. "Must you be so stubborn?"

Kayleigh's chin lifted slightly in answer. Tristan sighed but his grip only tightened.

"The bishop comes in days," she said through gritted teeth.

"Yes. We will have our papers and we can return home."

"The bishop… from Rome," she hinted.

"Do you know this man?" Tristan asked, a thread of danger laced through his words.

"No, no," Kayleigh reassured him quickly. "I have heard of him. He may have heard of me."

"Surely he will not recognize you."

"He will. I know he will."

Tristan's eyebrow tweaked at her affirmation.

Kayleigh turned her head away. How could she say this without sounding completely crazy? They already looked at her strangely. All except Tristan, who didn't look much at her at all since she had told them she had died in the hands of the Saxons but had been sent back by the gods. Perhaps he thought she was cursed and wanted nothing to do with her. But then today… she was so confused.

"Kayleigh."

The way he said her name made her heart jump up into her throat. She swallowed realizing he was waiting for an explanation. Frustrated, she laughed, lest she start crying again.

"This is why you run?" he asked, releasing her wrists.

"I run to stay alive! I've been running my whole life. I ran to find my brother then I ran from Rome. What am I to do?"

"You were alone then. You aren't alone anymore."

Shocked at what she was hearing, Kayleigh gaped. This didn't seem right. _Don't let them see your weaknesses. _She shook her head. What a time for memory to surface.

"Stop…" she whispered, her hands pressing against his chest.

Tristan took her head in his hands and forced her to look at him.

"Stay with us," he said.

Kayleigh closed her eyes. She now knew why Tristan kept his mask in place. In his eyes were raw emotions. It was like looking into the sun.

"Stay with me." This thumb moved to whisk away a tear that had found its way down the side of her face.

After a long moment of silence, Kayleigh finally opened her eyes. "How can you ask me this?" At his confused expression she continued, "The bishop will recognize me. He will take me back to Rome and nail me to a cross."

It was like Tristan had been hit in the chest. He fell backward on his haunches, her words shuttering through him. He stood. "No! I will not allow it."

Kayleigh sat up, running her hand through her hay tangled hair. "I- I have seen it," she admitted and looked away, afraid of his reaction.

"Seen it?" he asked, clearly perplexed.

"I have been seeing… visions," she explained. "I was not sure what they were but I know now that they are important. They are the future, or at least a possible future."

"When did you see this vision?" he asked calmly.

"This morning. That is why I must leave now."

Tristan nodded, only partially understanding. "We will hide you in the village until he leaves. A man of his… status will not venture there."

Kayleigh thought of this plan for a moment. It wasn't nearly as far away from the Roman as she wished to be but the knights would be nearby if she needed them.

"And Arthur?" Kayleigh asked. "If he mentions me…"

"He will not. I will speak with him."

"But-"

"Don't worry," Tristan said, helping her up. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Which one?" Kayleigh asked, eyebrow raised.

"The one that proves you've lost your senses." Tristan's lip twitched upward.

Kayleigh shoved him against the stall wall and turned on her heel. She couldn't help but smile to herself as he let out a bark of laughter. Jesting and laughing? Asking her to stay with him? It seemed more likely that he was the crazy one.


	42. Decisions, Decisions

The final days were upon them. Arthur received word that the Bishop's ship docked safely at Londinium. After granting the proper audiences and resting, the Bishop and his escort began the last leg of the journey. The fort was abuzz with activity. The streets were repaired where needed and swept, the stones were scoured clean, dust was beaten from rugs and tapestries, weapons sharpened and armor polished to a reflective shine. Kayleigh, Vanora, Lavena, and Jols all conspired secretly to serve a great feast at the tavern to celebrate the knights' discharge from Roman service.

The day they had all been waiting and preparing for finally arrived. The day dawned bright, promising fair weather. Kayleigh had been in the fields early, pulling weeds to earn her keep. Jols had an aunt who lived in the town that surrounded the fortress walls and had taken Kayleigh in for the time being. The plump old woman was a harsh taskmaster who took pride in her quant house and small grocer's stall she ran in the town's marketplace.

"You won't be brining that demon of a horse onto my property, ya hear?"

Kayleigh held back a smile as the woman wagged a crocked finger at her. Apparently, her stall had been one of the many that Fury had destroyed on her jaunt through town a year ago.

"Yes, ma'am," Kayleigh had replied with a grin.

Kayleigh was grateful for the work. It took her mind off her anxiety of the Bishop's arrival. The Woads kept the knights busy with their own duties, giving Kayleigh a respite from their concerned glances.

After washing up, Kayleigh walked to the fort to prepare the horses. Tristan was to meet her there and join her on the hunt. It was no use keeping anything secret from him. He would find out eventually, like as not.

Today would be the first time they would be alone since the occurrence in this building a week ago. In this very place his body had pressed against hers. His rough hands had held her face. His warm scent, that of damp earth, forest, and horse, had engulfed her. And he asked her to stay.

The thought made her feel warm and cold at the same time.

Her past continued to haunt her at night. Pervidius tortured her when she finally succumbed to sleep. During the day, a voice deep inside taunted her. _Murderer. Monster. Coward._

And she was. She was terrified of these visions she had, not knowing if it was the future she saw or if she could change it. It was hard to discern between the true visions this god spoke of and the whisperings of the dark, evil thing that lay deep within her. Either way, the scenes grew darker and bloodier.

She was terrified to let Tristan any closer. Those she cared for seemed to get killed most gruesomely. One day she had brought this up with him. "You know, it's a great risk befriending me," she had said.

After explaining, Tristan shrugged. "We're all going to die someday."

She studied his features trying to determine if he were serious.

After a moment, his lip curled in a half smirk. "Some enjoy it enough to do it twice."

She rolled her eyes. It was not funny to her. She had seen his death, or at least, one version of it. Who knew what would change just by her knowledge of it.

The only thing that scared her more than these things was that she wouldn't be able to get past her own fear. There was real possibility that her own reflexes would push Tristan away unintentionally. After all, her experiences thus far of the arts of the bedchamber were very close to those of torture and pain. This was one secret she kept to herself hoping to contain the shame and sense of worthlessness that the memories brought.

If it ever went so far as that with Tristan, how else could her body react than with repulsion and fear? It was what it had been taught, night after night. She couldn't bear to see that hurt in his eyes, his barriers fallen away. And yet, her heart beat wildly at his approach and she was drawn to him like rust to metal.

"You aren't bringing this mutt, are you?" Tristan asked as he closed the space between them.

Toby barked and jumped on Kayleigh, his tail wagging expectantly.

"Of course," Kayleigh said, patting the dog's head. "I have been training him. This hunt will be his true test." She eyed the hawk on his arm. "You're bringing the bird?"

Tristan cocked an eyebrow at her as the hawk screeched.

"Fine," she said, holding her hands up. "But keep her away from Toby. He doesn't like her and I won't be responsible for any accidents."

"The dog hates everyone except you," Tristan commented wryly, holding Fury's reins while Kayleigh mounted.

"He doesn't seem to mind you," Kayleigh replied, watching Tristan gracefully swing up into his saddle.

"He must have enough sense to fear me."

Kayleigh could only shake her head and nudge Fury into a trot.

Once outside the confines of the walls, Kayleigh and Tristan fell into a comfortable silence, content on not being alone. Tristan let his hawk take wing and Toby ran after her barking. Kayleigh let him go, chuckling at his enthusiasm. She knew he would return by the time they got into good hunting ground. If one thing was true, it was he was an excellent tracker.

Mist nearly made the tree line invisible from where they rode on the road. Kayleigh watched as it swirled and thickened, tendrils of moist air weaved out from the tress reaching toward her. A chill ran down her spine as it's cold fingers curled around her.

Kayleigh reined in, watching, her eyes searching the mist. A glint flashed in the distance. A blade caught the rays of the sun, reflecting them out. She tensed, waiting with anticipation for the vision to hit full force. Somewhere in the distance she heard Tristan's voice.

Suddenly, blue painted men erupted from the forest, weapons raised, shouting war cries. Arrows flew across the expanse of grass to the road, landing harmlessly into a wagon that had not been there seconds before. The Romans that surrounded it drew their swords and circled protectively around the wagon.

The Romans were outnumbered and though they were mounted, there was only one way this battle was going to end. Blood and defeat.

The mists fled and the road was clear before them again. Tristan was holding Fury's reins, keeping the horse steady until Kayleigh regained her senses.

"What did you see?" he asked after a moment.

"Woads!" she gasped. She turned towards him, eyes wide. "I think they were attacking the Bishop's caravan."

Conflicting thoughts ran behind Tristan's eyes before he turned, taking in their surroundings.

"Go!" Kayleigh urged. "I'll be fine. Go!"

Tristan gave her a nod and raced back to the fort, already developing a plan that would convince Arthur to allow the knights to ride out to meet the Bishop.

Kayleigh hesitated. Could she let the knights go to fight off the Woads themselves? She tried to calculate the odds of their victory according to the number of Woads she had seen. It was close, they were nearly even. And the knights would fight ferociously to ensure the safety of the Bishop- or at least, the papers granting their freedom.

If she joined them, there was a good chance she would be recognized, by a Roman soldier if not by the Bishop himself. And the knight's surprise feast would be ruined, weeks of planning wasted. She would be abandoning Vanora, Lavena, and Jols to improvise by themselves without a word of warning. Toby's test of skills will have to be postponed indefinitely.

Kayleigh bit her lip indecisively. Tristan's hawk silently flew overhead. The warmth of the sun was strong on her back. Though she wished for another vision to come to her now that she had meddled with fate, she knew it didn't work like that. It was not something she could beckon to her will like a trained animal. Or at least, if she could, she didn't know how.

Finally, she made her decision, urging her horse forward with kick.

* * *

Remember those Choose Your Own Adventure books we read as kids? Well, here's my little version in this chapter. As I've said from the beginning, I'm kind of just going with the flow here, following what the characters choose to do. Now, it's your turn to choose.

Should Kayleigh:

A) Join the knights in protecting the Bishop, possibly getting killed, or worse- taken back to Rome

B) Join the knights but stay at a distance during the battle to keep from being recognized but join in the fight if needed

C) Trust the knights' abilities and go hunting finding her own predicament in the forest

D) Other- give me your own ideas

I just thought I would do something different, and hopefully fun for anyone who wants to have a say in what they will be reading a few days from now. I will take the majority of the votes and start writing on Monday. That will give you the weekend to think on it and review. Don't forget to review this chapter. How am I doing? Is Tristan too much out of character? I, for one, didn't know he had such a sense of humor but I like it. One liners fit him I think.

Oh, one more thing... if you would like to see a picture of Toby (my dearly departed pooch who I have written into the story), a link to my blog (which I have really been neglecting) is in my profile. Follow that and there is a post something along the lines of "Ten Things I Miss About Toby" that contain two pictures of him.


	43. Woads!

Yes, it's been awhile. I have no valid excuses. The end is finally drawing near. If you've stuck with me this long, thanks. With no further ado- chapter 43!

* * *

Kayleigh urged her horse across the open wide expanse of the field. The forest had been cut back long ago to provide more safety on the road. Attackers would be spotted long before they had a chance to harm any travelers.

Toby joined her at a run as she approached the foggy tree line. Tristan's hawk screeched overhead but the dog ignored her sensing Kayliegh's urgency. Kayleigh slowed as they entered the forest, carefully making her way between trees and patches of thick brush. They moved parallel to the road but stayed far enough in to conceal them from any soldiers on the road, from Rome or the fort.

The Woads were here, she knew. She could smell the war paint they used on their bodies. Toby gave a soft whine and the horse shook her head as the scent caught her nostrils. Kayleigh drew in the reigns and sat quietly, listening. The mist curled its wet fingers around her, shielding all sight and sound of the outside from her.

Tristan's hawk swooped down, landing on a branch above her, sounding a cry of warning.

It was too late. The fog before her parted and a robed man carrying a staff emerged, a group of warriors silently followed in his wake. Kayleigh's horse startled at the appearance of the band and Kayleigh fought to keep the horse from dashing blindly into the forest. Toby growled threateningly as he moved further from the dangerous horse's wild hooves toward the enemy.

"Hold," she commanded Toby after she got the horse under control. The dog obediently backed off but did not take his sharp eyes from the warriors.

The air around the man vibrated with power and his men obeyed him as easily as he held a hand out to keep them back. His head tilted as he took in the image of the woman, and the horse, dog, and hawk. "Friend of beasts," he said, "friend of knights, friend of Rome."

"No!" The ferocity in which it was spoken surprised even Kayleigh. She realized this was not a man to argue with. "Not of Rome," she said more calmly.

"And yet you fight for them," the man said as he stepped closer. His skin was the same tint of blue as his warriors and though he carried a staff, he held his body straight with only a few strands of gray threaded through his dark hair. A number of tattoos covered his skin on his face and arms. She had a feeling these were not his only ones. But what captured her attention was his piercing brown eyes. It was more uncomfortable than facing Tristan's stare but she could not look away.

"I fight for myself and my friends," she explained. "Rome took my brother. Rome took my family. Rome took my land, just as she has taken yours."

"Not yet," the man corrected, a hint of smile shown in his features. "Even we have heard of your deeds, beyond the wall and farther."

Kayleigh didn't know what to make of this so she kept quiet. "You pay homage to the earth and respect her creatures as we do. You unite two people to fight against a common enemy to defeat the Saxons." He studied her closely. "Yes, at a great cost."

She finally pried her eyes from him. She looked past him to the warriors and noticed a few women among them. This did not surprise her. She had seen a few women fighting in the small battles she had been a part of.

"We respect you as you respect us," he continued. "We honor you, Kayleigh."

Surprise flashed across her face and the man laughed. "We cannot promise the safety of your friends but you are no enemy of ours. No harm will come to you when you enter our domain."

Kayleigh shook her head, "I don't understand."

"Your journey is just beginning. I can see farther than your visions. In time, you will see of what I speak."

"How do you know about that? Who are you?" she asked suspiciously.

"I know many things," he said, gifting her with a smile. "I am Merlin."

* * *

"The men are restless," Tristan said. He paced before Arthur in his office. "A ride will do us good. There are enough men here to make sure the fort is defended."

"The Bishop will be here before dusk. There's no reason to ride out to meet him. You will not get your papers any sooner," Arthur replied, slightly annoyed. This conversation had gone on long enough. He was just as anxious for the Bishop to get here but their presence would not make a bit of difference in the pace of the caravan.

Tristan's jaw clenched in frustration. The Woads could be attacking right now. He would never be free of Rome without those discharge papers. Those papers were his life and the lives of his brother knights.

"We should at least provide additional security as they travel north," Tristan said, his voice rising slightly in anger.

"I'm sure the Pope has given him all the soldiers he could possibly need," Arthur stated, turning back to the stack of paperwork that needed completing

Tristan leaned down on Arthur's desk, his face menacingly close to his commander's. "I have waited 15 years for this," he said, his voice a tense whisper, "and you are going to leave it in the hands of some pompous papal guards to deliver those papers to us safely? The knights have nothing without those papers. No life. No future. No hope. I have never disobeyed your orders before, Arthur. But if I must do it now, I will."

Arthur stared at him, taken back by his words, then shook his head. "You are right, my friend." He stood and walked around the desk. "Get the men ready."

* * *

"Merlin!" Kayleigh gasped. The horse snorted and shook her head in response as if the creature knew the enormity of the situation.

"I know what they whisper about me beneath the Wall. Dark sorcerer, blue demon, unholy conjurer… but I have never seen such darkness as I see in you."

Kayleigh absently rubbed her thigh through her riding pants and the slave brand that was burnt into the flesh underneath.

He waved his band of warriors off and they disappeared soundlessly into the fog. "Walk with me child." Kayleigh stared at him. "Come now, if I was going to harm you, your friend's hawk there would have my eyeballs before I could finish my thought."

Kayleigh looked up. Tristan's hawk was resting peacefully on the branch above her, all signs of alarm long gone. She shrugged and dismounted. What other choice did she have? They could kill her if they wanted to. She wouldn't have a chance against them. He began walking, his step steady and confident. She joined him, careful to keep a good distance between them.

Merlin chuckled. "So distrustful."

"You and you people have killed many of my people over the years. Why would I trust you?"

"You are not of Rome."

"No, but Rome takes what is not theirs, like the lives of my people and forces them to fight others. Not half of these people you kill who fight for Rome are Romans."

"It should be a mercy. Better to die than serve Rome."

"Not when there is a chance for life beyond Rome. These men serve fifteen years and are then free to live their own lives. They deserve that chance."

Merlin's face was hard, unmoving. Tristan's hawk fluttered from branch to branch overhead, keeping a sharp eye on him.

"Please, I know what you are doing. If you could just wait, wait three days and they will have the freedom they've earned."

"I cannot do that. The Bishop is a man of great power to this Romans. To kill him is to take a limb from a fierce warrior. It may not stop him, but it may slow him down for the time being. This opportunity is too great to ignore."

"Rome will leave this island!" Kayleigh pleaded. "I have seen the hordes of armies at her doorstep. They have already withdrawn some soldiers from the wall back to the capital."

They began descending into a wide valley. "It is not enough," Merlin said sternly. "Why do you protect this Bishop? He will take you back to Rome as his slave, even you have seen it."

"No. That cannot happen," Kayleigh said through clenched teeth. She knew what would happen to her if they recognized her. They would make an example out of her. The most gruesome death would be her sentence- nailed to a cross, eaten by wild animals as entertainment, forced to fight for her life in the arena. Whichever they decided would be the most torturous and humiliating death.

"The Bishop must die." Merlin's eyes narrowed in on an object on the horizon beyond the forest. The Bishop's carriage slowly grew larger as it crawled near. The fog in the forest parted momentarily and Kayleigh picked out silhouettes of Woad warriors in the trees, crouched in the brush, standing with backs against trees. Merlin whispered a word and the fog settled in thicker around the trees effectively concealing the ambush party.

Merlin heard her sharp inhale and quickly took hold of her arm. "I've sworn not to harm you but if you go running into battle, there is little I can do to protect you."

The cart was almost before them. A faint sound echoed through the forest and the Woad warriors let loose their arrows, one finding its target in a Roman soldier's chest, the force of it throwing him back, off his horse. Then the forest erupted into war cries.

"That man holds my friends' papers to freedom and I will see that they are delivered safely," Kayleigh shouted over the uproar. Streams of Woads streaked past her. She needed to stop them somehow.

"Do not interfere," he warned, his brown eyes pierced her through to her soul. Something he saw there made him loose his grip on her.

"I already have," Kayleigh stated as she turned to see the knights thunder down from the ridge above.

Merlin's eyes widened at the sight. For as much rage as his people fought with, the knights brought and reflected tenfold. Kayleigh was right, this was life or death to them. This battle was worth more than all the others combined.

The Roman soldiers escorting the carriage circled, trying to protect the bishop inside. They did a fair job at holding back the wave of attackers until the knights arrived. Lancelot and Gawain dismounted, preferring to wade into the thick of battle. A Woad in a tree near Kayleigh let loose an arrow that nearly skewered Arthur's steed. Tristan's eyes zeroed in on the archer and took him out with an arrow of his own.

Kayleigh dropped to the ground afraid to be seen. She could imagine the anger and betrayal Tristan would feel to see her standing with the Woads, with Merlin of all people. He was too focused on the battle however, for soon he dismounted himself. He pulled his long curved sword from its sheath and danced across the battlefield leaving a trail of blood and death in his wake.

Her attention turned to Bors as he finished off the Woad he was fighting and began screaming obscenities into the forest. Merlin pulled her to her feet.

"They fight well when they fight with a purpose, when they embrace the rage. You must do the same. The darkness is a part of you. Stop running from it and be whole again," Merlin placed a hand on her forehead in blessing.

A Woad handed her horse's reigns to him.

"One day my power will be in shadow to yours. But for now, you must yield to my wisdom." He handed her the reigns. "Go now, my warriors will not welcome your presence as they return defeated."

Kayleigh mounted and hurriedly made her way through the trees hoping the fog held until she was far away and safe.


	44. Bishop's Lousy Ceremony

Thanks everyone who is still reading this story. I'm amazed how many have added it to their alerts or favorites. It's been a long journey but it's not over yet! Enjoy this chapter! Consider it your Easter gift.

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From the shelter of the trees, Kayleigh watched the procession of the Bishop's caravan, now spread out longer along the road with the addition of Arthur and his knights. Tristan's hawk gave a cry in seeing her master and took off from a branch above, leaving Kayleigh and Toby for the first time today.

Tristan spotted the bird circling above the road, whistled, and rose a partially gloved hand. The hawk dove and settled gracefully on his wrist. "Where you been, eh? Where you been?" he asked, ruffling the feathers beneath her beak. The hawk cooed in reply.

Once the last Roman cavalryman disappeared beyond the fortress walls, Kayleigh began the long walk across the grassy field, leading her horse on foot. Beside her, Toby trotted along, ears flopping, and stopping occasionally to investigate a new scent or chase a bug in the soft, young grass.

"You did well today, boy," she told him. "Let's celebrate with a nice, juicy bone during the celebration tonight." At the mention of 'bone', Toby leaped up and gave her a sloppy kiss, then began running circles around her and her stead. The horse huffed and shook her head in irritation at the dog's antics.

As they approached the wall, the sentries posted there nodded in acknowledgement and let her through without stopping her to inspect the load on her horse's back. They, along with everyone else in the fort, recognized her as the mysterious woman who had uncovered conspiracy and joined two armies to defeat the Saxons.

The knights had tried to keep her involvement quiet for her own safety but the Scotti people were a loud bunch that enjoyed boasting and forming song out of their deeds and the events surrounding it. Not a few of these involved the god-touched woman who came to their land calling the Scotti to reclaim the honor the Saxons had taken from them. Thanks to them, she was well known and recognized by most of the Roman military stationed at the forts along the Wall where Arthur had to dig up enough men for a force powerful enough to fight the Saxons.

The Romans might have even called her hero if they dared to speak to her at all. A woman warrior was unaccepted in Roman society. Not that she wanted to be accepted by _them_, but she was labeled a barbarian and treated as such. The only ones that accepted her were the knights, and keeping company with them insured everyone else gave her a wide berth.

Kayleigh pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, hoping it would help conceal her identity. Toby was loitering among the soldiers on duty, some of whom gave him a pat on the head and others a kick in the rear. Kayleigh whistled and he obediently followed her as she made her way to the tavern.

It was unlikely the soldiers stationed here had ever been to Rome. The real danger was the officials and the papal guard. They may have gone to chariot races in Rome and may recognize her from the role she had performed there.

In contrast, her reputation in Rome was that of a slave and murderer. She was sure that news of her dark deeds were spoken in fearful whispers throughout the whole of the Empire- a barbarian slave on the loose after slaughtering all in her master's house, and the master himself killed in a tragic accident upon the same day. She was feared as much as any monster lurking in the darkness, and worst of all, it was not known when or where she would strike next.

It was hard to believe two such different stories both belonged to her. The thing that made her most anxious was that both of the stories featured a woman with the same exact name- her name. She feared someone, in time, would connect the two to her.

_Why hadn't I given a false name when Arthur asked nearly two years ago?_ She beat herself up over that time and time again. But she knew the answer. Tristan. He would see she was lying then and there, and Arthur would have handed her back to the Romans that found her in the ship's cargo hold, stealing enough food and drink to survive the long journey.

Tristan was a frightening and challenging opponent the first few months of Kayleigh's stay at the fort. Now, she was glad she earned his trust. He was an invaluable ally and friend. She would have either been shipped off to Rome or killed without him. She didn't think she had ever depended on anyone as much as she did Tristan and he has never let her down.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of children's voices vying for the attention of their father, who was roaring at Lancelot pondering aloud on how many of Vanora's children were actually his. Vanora was busy trying to herd her children out of the area as Kayleigh tied the horse outside entered the Tavern.

"Kayleigh," Gawain called, deciding to get in on the action, "You should hear what Bors said about Sarmatian women!"

At that, Bors abandoned his fight with Lancelot to wrap a meaty arm around Gawain's neck, effectively cutting him off. "J-Just that… they are lovely creatures," Bors sputtered out. Lancelot made a sound like a lolling cow and the room erupted into hearty laughter. Kayleigh looked dumbfounded, which made the men laugh louder.

Kayleigh bit her tongue to keep back a harsh comment. The men were just excited to be free men again and she didn't want to spoil their fun, but she was not in the mood after her eventful morning. She heard Tristan's light footsteps approaching from the direction of the stables and turned to meet him.

"What are you doing here," he hissed, pulling her into the shadowy darkness of the tavern.

"Delivering your supper," Kayleigh said, yanking her arm from his grasp. "You can thank Toby for it." Tristan's hawk swooped down with a cry. "And feather brain here, too."

"Ayn," Trsitan clarified.

"Yes, well, she was a help today, unlike someone else."

Tristan's stoic mask was firmly in place as he stared back at her. "I had to save the day, again."

"I know," Kayleigh stated. "Come over here and help me with this, dear."

A flash of surprise crossed Tristan's face.

"What?" She turned toward the horse and pulled the cover back. "The deer, help me with it. It was not easy getting this up here."

"Deer." Tristan shook his head and helped her untie the beast from the back of the horse.

"What did you think I was talking about?" she asked.

"How did you know what happened with the Bishop? Did you have another vision?" Tristan asked, changing the subject.

"No, I saw with my eyes." Tristan's eyes narrowed on her. "I mean, you're standing right here," she said quickly, covering her tracks. "Obviously the mission was a success."

"Uh huh." Tristan hefted the deer down on the bar counter.

"Did you get your papers?" Kayleigh asked, changing the subject herself this time.

Tristan shook his head. "It was a long journey for a Roman."

"All of you animals, out of my tavern!" Vanora yelled, "And the horse, dog, and hawk, too."

The men were busy filling their stomachs with cheap wine and they grumbled as she took the pitcher away. "Clean yourselves up. All that blood would scare the old man away," she added.

"As if that would be so bad," Tristan muttered to Kayleigh as the knights filed out of the tavern.

"Of course it would!" Kayleigh exclaimed and moved to slap his shoulder playfully.

Tristan's hand darted out and caught her wrist. "Not for you," he said seriously.

Kayleigh shrugged. "Keeping to the shadows shouldn't be too bad. You do it all the time," she said, giving him a sweet smile.

"We should have had you do this from day one. It would have saved us a lot of trouble," Tristan replied.

"Oh, get out of here!" Kayleigh exclaimed, pushing him out into the courtyard of the tavern. "I'll see you again when you're a free man!"

He turned and gave her a rare grin before making his way to the bathhouse. Kayleigh smiled and shook her head in astonishment wondering if this is the way he had been before Rome had taken him to Britain. More importantly, it this who he'll be after he leaves? Perhaps after the burden of knighthood is lifted and he has left this land behind he could find happiness.

A glint of a blade caught Kayleigh's eyes and she jumped back instinctively.

"Ready to clean this thing?" Vanora asked, pressing the handle of the knife into Kayleigh's hand.

Kayleigh sighed and nodded. "Ready."

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Tristan arrived in the Great Hall to find his brothers-in-arms already seated, laughing and joking light-heartedly. He sat at his usual spot, empty chairs on both sides and beyond them, Gawain to his right, Bors to his left. Tristan poured himself a cup of wine with the pitcher provided and took a sip.

"And just when do you think you'll have time to do this?" Gawain was asking.

"Your wife will come to me, willing and ready. We'll make love in the grass under the stars." Lancleot grinned and continued, "And then I will be sure to return her to you."

"That is very kind of you," Gawain muttered. "I will not let her out of the house with you around."

"You can't keep watch on her all the time. Turn to do your business in the bushes and," Lancelot snapped his fingers. "It doesn't take that long."

"It really doesn't," Bors grumbled.

Tristan laughed.

The men looked at him in surprise, and then continued on with their good-natured banter.

Tristan sat back casually in his chair, his legs crossed at the ankles beneath the table. _So this is what it feels like to be happy_, he mused.

Arthur entered and immediately sent Jols to fetch the Bishop. "And be respectful about it," he called after Jols, who was practically running down the hallway already.

"What do you think the odds are of that," Gawain asked.

"Ha! Jols only respects the Romans who earn it, and I can count that on one finger," Lancelot said holding up a finger and then bent it in Arthur's direction.

"I'm sure it was only my British half that save me there," Arthur replied with a chuckle.

The mood changed drastically as the Bishop's servant entered and announced his master's presence. The same tight-lipped outrage showed on the Bishop's face upon seeing the round table as it had every other Roman authority that had visited in the last 30 years.

The knights rose and the Bishop's eyes swept the room, hardly taking in Tristan who remained seated. He had no reason to respect this man. All this Roman would see after he received his papers was his dust trail.

"I was given to understand there would be more of you," he heard the Bishop say as Tristan rose to accept golden goblet full of wine. He sat down shaking his head. The Bishop was either stupid or ignorant, or perhaps both.

Tristan ignored the rest of whatever the man had to say. Instead, he thought of going back to Sarmatia. Of course, this was not the first time he'd thought of it. Over and over, night after lonely night, he had gone over his plans in his head. It seemed surreal now that it would actually be happening. He had never put too much hope into returning home. The empty chairs around the table reminded him of those odds throughout the years. But he had made it after all.

The Bishop finished the beginning of his flowery speech and waved for the other knights to sit. Tristan took a sip of wine. It wasn't the kind they usually found in the fort, watered down and tangy. This wine was strong and rich, the deep red of fresh blood. He put the goblet down and took a sip from his own trying to wash away the sick taste in his mouth.

The Bishop droned on and on, but Tristan's ears pricked at the word 'Saxons', and he sat up in his chair listening intently.

"Saxons?" Arthur repeated.

The Bishop was opening a small box containing the knight's papers of discharge. "Yes," he said, looking up at the knights from his task, "in the north, a massive Saxon incursion has begun."

Tristan stood, more from the sight of the scrolls than the news of Saxons. He would be long gone before the Saxons penetrated the Wall and moved south. The potential for spilling Saxon blood would have been appealing if he hadn't had Kayleigh to think of.

"The Saxons only claim what they kill," Lancelot said, the news obviously more troubling for him to hear.

"And they kill everything," Gawain's voice was hardly above a whisper. Thankfully, the Bishop was blissfully unaware of who they were all thinking of in that moment.

"So you'll just leave the land to the Woads," Galahad stated. His anger was dangerously close to overcoming him and he nearly laughed in frustration. "I risked my life for nothing."

The Bishop didn't bother replying, only shifted their attention to the discharge papers. "But first I must have a word with your commander. In private."

"We have no secrets," Arthur stated.

Arthur had no idea how wrong he was.

"Come," Lancelot said, cutting the tension in the room, "let's leave Roman business to Romans."

Tristan had half a mind to jump over the table and just take his papers, but he didn't want to jeopardize his chance, along with his brothers'-in-arms chance for freedom. He took the golden goblet and filed out of the room with the others, the sick feeling he had travelled down to his stomach. The doors closed heavily behind him, just as the doors of his heart slammed shut on his fleeting moment of happiness.

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Hope you enjoyed it. I didn't think it was my best but I'm just trying to get through to the good stuff! Reviews, suggestions, and constructive criticism welcome and requested.


	45. The Sun and Stars

I'm back from vacation and feeling playful, so I hope you all like this chapter.

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Kayleigh rushed to her room to clean up. Vanora was keeping a close eye on the deer that was roasting on the spit behind the tavern and Lavena was hanging boughs of early spring flowers; yellow primrose, blue forget-me-nots, and purple pansies from the rafters and awnings.

Her room was cast in shadows when she arrived. Kayleigh cracked the window to let the last light of dusk inside. Making sure the lock was securely in place, she stripped, gave herself a quick wash with the water from the wash basin, then slid her mother's red dress over her head.

Kayleigh didn't have many childhood memories but the day her father had brought this dress home to her mother was as clear in her mind as the Sarmatian sky on a summer night. Her father and the warriors of the tribe, men and women both, returned to camp after weeks of raiding the towns just inside the Roman Territory to the west. A messenger rode before the raiding party to alert the tribe of their return and a feast was prepared in anticipation.

The quiet valley erupted into cheers at the sight of the treasure laden horses. The loot was passed around, distributed equally among all tribe members. Her father rummaged through a trunk and removed the red linen dress and presented it to her mother. After eyeing the piece approvingly, she dragged her husband into their tent where he spent quite a long time helping her change into it.

When they finally joined the celebration, there was an abundance of loud laughing, jesting, and whistling aimed at the couple. Kayleigh's father had wrapped an arm around his wife's hips and pulled her toward him in pride. The red dress clung to her mother's upper body and hips, displaying her curves, then dropped to the ground in flowing folds.

Kayleigh smiled at the memory. The dress had once been embroidered with golden thread. That had been stolen long ago in Gaul, but Kayleigh wore it proudly, thinking of her family and life before the Romans had come.

From the pouch under her bed, she withdrew two hairpins decorated with tiny green colored glass flowers. After pulling a comb brutally through her hair, she piled it atop her head and inserted the pins. She wished she had a mirror in which to check her image.

Deep down, she knew she could never look beautiful. Not with all the scars marring her flesh. Her hand reached up and traced the latest in her collection, the bright angry scar bisecting her neck. The low neckline and red color of the dress would only make it stand out. She considered changing back to her regular garb for a moment but shook her head. This night was special. She would do this for her friends, the soon to be free men.

After donning her cloak and pulling the hood up, she made her way back to the tavern. Vanora was lighting candles and lanterns when she entered. "Did they come out yet?" Kayleigh asked anxiously.

"No," Vanora answered turning toward her. Vanora whistled. "Wow! Who are you seducing tonight?"

Kayleigh blushed. "Shhhhh," she quieted her friend. "I just want to stay out of trouble tonight."

"Wearing that?" Vanora snorted. "Good luck!"

Kayleigh wrapped her cloak tightly around her body questioning the wisdom of her choice again.

Vanora watched her squirming and felt for her. Being pulled onto random men's laps every night was maddening. "Just sit here," she said, directing Kayleigh to a dark corner of the bar and plopping her down on the stool, "and I will make sure nobody bothers you."

Kayleigh gave her a thankful smile.

Vanora moved to the other side of the bar and took a bundle from a basket under the counter. "This will keep all the men away," she said as she thrust the bundle into Kayleigh's arms.

Startled, Kayleigh looked down to see a pair of bright blue eyes gazing back at her. "Mmhgh coo phhhff," came from the tiny mouth, along with quite a bit of drool.

Kayleigh turned to Vanora, horrified. "I don't know what to do with this… this baby."

Vanora erupted in a fit of giggles attracting Lavena's attention. "What's so funny?"

"This," Kayleigh said, extending the bundle to Lavena in attempt to hand the child off.

"Oh, no!" Lavena exclaimed backing up. She shook her head. "I don't do needy."

At that Kayleigh and Vanora burst into laughter.

"What?" Lavena asked, a frown creasing her eyebrow.

Vanora, shaking her head, left to attend the patrons who began arriving for their nightly drink.

"Jols!" Kayleigh exclaimed.

"What?" Lavena repeated.

Kayleigh pointed behind Lavena and the girl turned to see the man in question approaching. Lavena rushed up to him leaving Kayleigh in her dark spot at the bar counter. The knights slowly arrived behind Jols, booted feet dragging in the dusty road.

Feeling eyes upon him, Tristan's eyes immediately met Kayleigh's and he made his way slowly toward her, regaining his composure. As he drew closer, however, the stoic mask fell away at the shock of Kayleigh's appearance.

"No papers?" Kayleigh guessed.

Tristan shook his head, instantly clearing his senses.

His eyes skimmed her body a little more slowly than usual then came to rest on the bundle in her arms. The child began crying. He let out a loud wail, tears showing on the small eyelashes lining his squinted lids.

To Kayleigh's surprise, Tristan gently took the baby, lifting him up to eye level. He clucked his tongue once to get the baby's attention. The child stopped crying and stared at Tristan with wide blue eyes. "Where's your mother, eh?" The baby blinked in response before reaching out and tugging on a braid.

Tristan turned toward the group of knights who were gathering around a pitcher of wine grumbling about Romans and the amount of time it takes for them to accomplish anything. "Bors."

Tristan plopped the baby in the big knight's arms as he turned. Bors growled. "Where's that woman? Can't keep track of 'er own children!" The child began crying again at the outburst. He turned from the other men bringing the baby to his shoulder. "Hush now, Eleven."

Tristan turned back toward Kayleigh. "You look…" he paused, searching for an accurate compliment.

"Like the sun," Lancelot cut in, taking her hand in his. "I fear gazing upon your radiance will blind me and I may burst into flames in the presence of your great beauty," he finished dramatically, bringing her hand to his lips for a kiss.

Kayleigh couldn't help blushing at the attention, whether she wanted it from him or not.

Lancelot stepped back, his devilish grin fading at the sight of a seething Tristan. He shrugged. "She's not yours yet, Tristan," he said, patting the knight on the back. Kayleigh's jaw clenched keeping a biting comment back.

"As if that would stop you," Tristan growled. Lancelot snickered and winked at Kayleigh before backing away to the gambling table.

Kayleigh returned to the stool at the bar, Tristan taking a seat next to her. "He's wrong," Tristan said finally. Kayleigh tilted her head toward him, raising an eyebrow. "You're not the sun."

He continued quickly at the sight of her frown. "You're a star. Beautiful, mysterious, a guiding light when all else is dark…"

Kayleigh smiled, blushing once again.

Tristan's lip twitched in attempt to hide his own smile. "And not always that bright."

Kayleigh's jaw dropped. "Why you little-" she exclaimed, her outstretched hand flew toward his face.

Tristan chuckled, caught her wrist and pulled her off the stool and into his arms. "There is nothing little about me," his voice rasped in her ear.

Kayleigh gasped. Her skin suddenly burned with heat and her heart raced. The hair of his beard was rough on her cheek. She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding and breathed in his earthy scent.

"Is this your idea of staying out of trouble?" Vanora called as she stepped around the counter for another pitcher of wine.

Tristan pulled away and drew his dagger, his eyes narrowing on Vanora.

"Tristan!" Kayleigh exclaimed with a laugh, grabbing his arm.

He smirked, taking an apple from his pocket and innocently cut a slice from it. Kayleigh took the proffered slice and popped it into her mouth. He took a bite of the apple, watching Gawain and Galahad's nightly game of dagger throwing.

Just as Vanora was making her way back toward the patio of the tavern, Tristan hurled his dagger. Vanora jumped back with a shriek, set a balled fist on her hip, and glared at Tristan.

Jols and Lavena laughed at her expense and Kayleigh had to join in the laughter at the sight of Gawain and Galahad's surprised expressions.

"Tristan! How'd you do that?" Gawain asked curiously.

"I aim for the middle," he replied. "Good thing I missed," he whispered to Kayleigh with a grin.

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Can you imagine it or is it way out of character? Hmmm...


	46. We Will Go Home Or Not

Sorry this took so long to update. I know I'm notorious for going long periods without posting new chapters but I have a good excuse, sorta. I had pneumonia. Anyway, I'm better and here's the new chapter. Also, thanks to Azure, Gwilwillith, and M for the reviews on last chapter! Your input really helps so keep them coming!

"Shut up!" Bors hollered interrupting Kayleigh and Tristan's light banter. For the first time since her captivity with the Saxons, Kayleigh was finally feeling like her old self again. Better than that, she felt happy. It was a surprising, overwhelming feeling but she drank it in knowing that such moments never last long.

"Vanora will sing!" Bors announced, pushing his lover toward the patio.

The wine flowed freely and the roasted deer had been devoured. Now the men were up for some entertainment. They encouraged her with shouts and requested songs they had heard in the tavern on previous occasions, then all noise died as Vanora began her solo.

The simple song was for the Sarmatian knights and them alone. It was fitting tribute for their last night in service to Rome. Kayleigh watched the mens' expressions as they remembered where they came from. She imagined her expression was the same as Tristan's- impassive. Sarmatia was beautiful; open fields, blue skies, warm winds, waves of grass; but it meant nothing to her. The people of the land had cast her out just as everywhere else.

"Arthur!" Jols called, abruptly ending Vanora's performance.

Tristan smiled, took a bite of his golden apple and strode across the patio to where Arthur stood in the street. Kayleigh forced herself to remain where she was, hidden in the dark corner of the tavern, as the men gathered around their commander. Vanora made her way to the bar and sat next to Kayleigh, who attempted to give her a comforting smile. Lavena joined them as the air around the men grew tense.

"I'm a free man! I will choose my own fate!" Bors roared angrily.

The baby in Vanora's arms began wailing again at his father's sudden outburst. Vanora stood, bouncing the baby up and down trying to calm him. Kayleigh couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Lancelot step in to break up a fight amongst the knights. Lavena slipped her hand into Kayleigh's as Galahad screamed at Tristan.

Dagonet spoke quietly then drew away from the other knights. "Bors, you coming?" he asked.

"Of course I'm coming! Can't let you go on your own! You'll all get killed! I'm just saying what you're all thinking!" he boomed, then stalked off after Dagonet.

Tristan followed closely behind the two knights, not daring to glance in Kayleigh's direction. He felt her stare burning into him all the way across the tavern patio. After he was out of sight, he hurled the apple core furiously at a random stone building.

Kayleigh returned her gaze to Arthur and the remaining knights. Galahad emptied a wine pitcher at Arthur's feet before smashing it on the pavestones, then turned and stormed out, Gawain on his heels. Then Arthur departed followed shortly by Lancelot.

"Ouch!" Lavena protested, prying Kayleigh's nails from her hand before rushing over to Jols who was making his way back to the bar. At least he had enough courage to approach the women.

"What happened?" Lavena asked absent-mindedly. Kayleigh was in a state of shock and Vanora's face had turned the same shade of red as her hair. Everyone in the tavern knew what happened. Why was the better question.

"They have been issued a final order," Jols replied.

"Whose order?" Vanora demanded.

Jols shrugged. "The Bishop's."

"Where?" Kayleigh asked.

"North," he said vaguely, not sure how much military information he should share with the women.

He turned to Lavena and gave her a tender kiss. "I must get the supplies in order," he told her before departing to tend to his own duties. Lavena rose, acquired a broom from behind the bar, and left to sweep up the shards of baked clay from the street.

Vanora dropped the baby in Kayleigh's lap once again and disappeared into the supply room of the tavern. Kayleigh finally snapped out of her shocked state at the sound of crashes and cursing.

"I'm gonna kill him!" she was shouting as Kayleigh crossed the threshold. A clay jug shattered against the wall near Kayleigh's head. The baby began wailing again. "Here, love," she said, taking the child from Kayleigh, her anger vanishing as quickly as it appeared.

"Don't worry," Kayleigh reassured her with smile. "I will make sure he gets back to you and the children. I'll make sure they all get back."

"You? But you aren't bound to Arthur any longer-"

"No, but I don't want any of them getting killed before we can kill them ourselves," Kayleigh said, trying to lighten her friend's mood.

Vanora sighed and pulled Kayleigh into a hug, headless of the crying baby sandwiched between them. "Gods bless." She kissed both of her cheeks and released her to tend to her child.

"As if I don't have something to live for. Hrmp." Tristan grunted in amusement.

"Kayleigh?" Dagonet dared to ask.

Tristan ignored him and continued to sharpen his daggers. "That boy is oblivious to all by himself."

Dagonet shrugged. "Galahad has been waiting for this day for fifteen years. We all have. We are all angered." His whet stone passed along the edge of his axe emphasizing his point.

Jols entered the storeroom with an armful of weapons, dropping them into a heap on the floor with a clatter. "We won't need all that," Tristan said.

"You're going up against Saxons and Woads," Jols replied. "You're going to need all the weapons you can take."

Dagonet rose to inspect the pile. "Tristan's right," he said. "The lighter we travel, the faster we can get there and back."

Jols frowned. "And if you must fight the Saxons?"

"Seven men against an army?" Tristan gave a breath of a laugh. "All the weapons in the Roman Empire won't be enough."

Kayleigh pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and crept into the darkness toward the stables. She made it half way across the dusty lane before a dark figure collided with her, knocking her to the ground.

"Watch where you're going!" A deep voice rumbled above her. His rough hand grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet before she could react, her hood falling back from her face. The soldier's accent was unmistakable. He was not a foreign born citizen. He was directly from Rome.

"Sorry," she mumbled, her anxious fist gripping her dagger beneath her cloak.

The Roman soldier's eyes narrowed in on her face. "I know you."

Kayleigh shook her head. "It's dark. You mistake me-"

"No, I've seen you somewhere…" he paused, thinking.

Kayleigh fought the rising panic in her chest. The man's hand only gripped her arm harder as she tried to pull away. "Let go!"

"The fun is just beginning, darling!"

"Toby!" Kayleigh called, seeing the dog loitering around the stables looking for scraps. The dog's ears stood at attention and seeing his new master in distress, bolted to the rescue, jaws opening at the ready. The soldier screamed as Toby clamped down on his backside and pulled him to the ground, effectively freeing Kayleigh.

She drew her hood up and escaped to the dark wall of the stables as growls and curses drew attention to the street. Lancelot exited the stables to the right of her and stopped short at the scene. His mind elsewhere, it took him a moment to register what was happening before jumping into action.

"Toby, no!" he yelled at the dog. Toby whined once before reluctantly backing away from the soldier.

The man stood painfully. "Where did that girl go?" he demanded angrily at his audience.

"What girl?" Lancelot asked. He had a sneaking suspicion who he was referring to but kept quiet.

"That dog should be killed!" The soldier pointed furiously.

"You'll have to take that up with our commander," Lancelot said.

"With your commander," the man corrected. "My commander is the Pope of Rome."

"As you say," Lancelot said before walking away.

Kayleigh watched from her hiding place as the crowd dispersed and the man grudgingly retired alone for the night before entering the stables. It was dark inside, the candles were low and the braziers burned out. On the other side of the room, Arthur stood, still as a Roman statue, shoulders slumped, head down.

"Arthur?" Kayleigh called, approaching cautiously.

"What do you need?" he asked without turning.

Kayleigh stopped, his weary voice warning her to get to the point.

"I'm going with you," she stated.

"It is a dangerous mission," he replied. "I cannot guarantee your safety."

"You never have," her words sounded sharper than she had intended.

"You know you might not return?"

"I know I cannot stay here and wait to see which of them doesn't."

Arthur was silent for a moment before resigning. "Be ready at dawn."


	47. Departure

Alright, all. Thanks for sticking with it! I'll be going on vacation and I hope to come back with an inbox full of reviews. I should also have a couple chapters written then so it won't take so long to update. Hope you all enjoy!

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Kayleigh left the old woman's house before the sky began to lighten, leaving a trinket on the old woman's favorite bench in gratitude for housing her. It was a ring, three strands of silver woven in waves around each other, which she had received from a tribe in Gaul.

She wrapped her cloak tighter around her torso as the morning breeze bit at her skin and hurried through the empty streets to the stables. The horses were still dozing when she entered. She tossed her bundle of belongings down and clucked her tongue at Fury, who woke and promptly gave her a nudge of warm welcome. "Ready to get out of here too, are you?" she asked before busying herself with feeding and watering the warhorses for the journey ahead.

Jols arrived heavy-lidded and red eyed as she warmed up Bors' horse.

"Long night?" Kayleigh asked.

Jols nodded wordlessly. Kayleigh didn't comment, her remaining bravado having been used up last night on Vanora. How could she have told Vanora that she would ensure their safe return? She couldn't promise that. She didn't know if she herself would make it back alive. Still, she found it hard to regret her words, having given her friend what little comfort she could.

Galahad was the first to report, ready to get the final mission over with. His mood was darker than Kayeligh had ever seen and made the horses uneasy and more difficult to manage. Thankfully, he took charge of exercising his own steed.

Slowly, the knights began arriving, Tristan and Dagonet striding in with purpose while Gawain and Lancelot dragged their boots to the task. Bors was the last to arrive looking worse off than any of them. Kayleigh imagined Vanora threatening him into coming back alive and unharmed before guilt, anger, and fear lured them both into a passionate early morning romp.

Tristan approached Kayleigh and guided her to an empty stall. "You coming?" he asked quietly.

"It was an easy choice," she replied. "The Saxons won't give me another chance to be rescued. They will give me a quick death, a mercy the Romans will not grant."

Tristan nodded. He could not give her any hope that these Saxons were unrelated to the last that invaded. An army large enough to take over the entire island would have intelligence of the last attempt and would not make the same mistakes.

"Give me your sword," Tristan said.

Kayleigh retrieved it from her bundle of belongings and handed it to him. The sword sang as he pulled it free from the scabbard. The golden lightning bolt along the blade flashed. Tristan admired the weapon and the skill it must have taken to craft such a blade. Looking closer, he observed tiny indentations marring the edges, marks of a warrior, marks made in battle. He glanced at Kayleigh wondering about the past they never spoke of and realizing that, though he knew more than most, it wasn't enough.

"It could use sharpening," he said and turned to join the other knights.

Silence descended on the stables as Arthur entered. Nothing was said, all words that needed saying, and some that didn't, were spoken last night. The Bishop was not too far behind and even Arthur looked surprised to see him there.

Kayleigh quickly turned her back, hiding in the protective cover of her cloak and hood. Toby's hackles rose at the scent of the man and those accompanying him, and began to growl.

"My trusted secretary, Horton…" the Bishop began, unfazed by the menacing dog.

"Horton!" he called, impatiently. The man inched forward nervously. "Will accompany you-"

"That dog!" one of the Bishop's guards yelled, pointing at Toby. "That's the dog that attacked me last night! It's that girl's-"

Kayleigh ducked down behind the low wall of the horse stall, her heart beating so loud, she thought they must know she was there.

The Bishop turned to glare at the soldier. "How dare you!" he said through clenched teeth. Then, remembering his audience, he turned to Arthur, a tight smile on his face.

"Jols, find him a horse," Arthur commanded at last.

"Godspeed as you fulfill your duty to Rome," the Bishop said in blessing, though is sounded more like a curse.

"My duty is also to my men," Arthur reminded him.

"Then get them home." The Bishop turned and walked out without another glance.

Anger fueled the men into working faster and soon they were ready to go. Kayleigh mounted her horse.

"You aren't going," Lancelot said in disbelief.

Kayleigh nodded.

"Tristan," Lancelot implored.

Tristan shrugged. "You can't stop an arrow once it's in the air."

"Dag?"

Dagonet shook his head and laughed. He knew her reasons for coming were valid and he would not try to talk her out of it. It was the right decision, no matter how much he wanted her to be as far away from the Saxons as possible.

"Arthur!"

"Let's go," was his reply as he urged his horse from the stables.

Lancelot could only make out a grin in the darkness under Kayleigh's hood before her horse followed, Toby on her heels. The knights burst from the stables to catch up with their commander.

"Try not to fall off!" Bors yelled over his shoulder to Horton. At his side, Jols laughed heartily at the sight of the secretary hunched over his horse's neck, gripping the reigns, and bouncing along unsteadily.

The Bishop watched from the Wall's parapets as the party galloped away and crossed himself.

"Sir," the guard dared to speak.

The Bishop waved him forward.

"Sir, that girl," he pointed to the rider whose furry companion ran at her side. "That girl, I know her."

"And how does this concern me?" The bishop asked, irritated.

"She is Pervidius' murder," the soldier replied. "The most wanted fugitive in the whole of the Republic."

* * *

"We'll stop for the night here," Arthur said decisively.

"Stop?" Galahad asked, perplexed.

"It's too dangerous to travel at night on land unknown to us," Arthur told him as he unbuckled the saddle's girdle. Jols rushed forward to take over the task.

"We've done it before. After the Woad attack earlier today, we shouldn't stop so they can take us in our sleep!" Galahad argued. Gawain shook his head. There was no use in arguing with their commander.

"He means," Bors interjected, "'If we don't stop, the Christian's going to fall off his horse.' And we aren't stopping to come back for 'im."

"Let the Woads have him. They would make a tasty meal of him," Galahad spat.

Horton slipped off his horse and stood for a moment on wobbly legs before his knees buckled below him. The men laughed as Bors helped the cleric to his feet, grabbing a fistful of his robes.

"Here we go, Christian," Bors said, laughing to himself at the nickname he had given Horton. The knight half lifted, half dragged the exhausted man out of the clearing and roughly set him down against a fallen tree trunk.

"Start a small fire," Arthur said, observing Horton's rain soaked cloak and his quivering limbs underneath. Kayleigh took the reins of Dagonet's horse as he set to the chore.

"Why do you suppose the Woads retreated today?" Gawain mused. No one wanted to admit that had the Woads not retreated, none of them would still be alive. It had been an effective trap the Woads had set and there was no reason not to finish the job. The horn had saved them just in time.

Kayleigh turned away remembering her run-in with Merlin. For whatever reason, he had ensured her safety. They had found common ground in their strange visions and respect for nature. That was one secret she could never let slip. Tristan would never understand if he found out she had spoken with the leader of his enemy. Not that she had sought him out, or even done so willingly. Leading the horses to a relatively protected grove to thick trees, she left the men to talk amongst themselves.

After seeing the horses cared for, she returned to the circle of light, the warmth of the fire a promising invitation. She sat between Horton and Jols. Bors complained to Dagonet that Vanora was nagging him to marry and give the children proper names.

"Women," Tristan scoffed. Kayleigh glared at him from across the fire and pulled her dagger dramatically from her boot. Tristan sheathed his sword, and feeling the darts she threw from her eyes without having to try to meet them, he changed the subject. "The children already have names, don't they?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Kayleigh stopped listening to the banter and applied herself to digging the dirt from her nails with her dagger. She couldn't understand how this torrent rain did not bother the knights, some of them not troubling themselves to draw the hoods of their cloaks over their heads. A lot of good that did Kayleigh, her hair was soaked and clung to her face and neck like moss growing on a rock.

The rain began coming down harder, turning the warm fire into a muddle of steaming coals. Realizing she had been better off with the horses, Kayleigh rose and took her leave. She found a tree with a dry spot in the shadow of its great trunk and laid down there, propping her back up against its giant roots.

A twig snapped a few feet before her and she looked up to find Tristan looking down at her.

"You're unusually loud," Kayleigh stated, then closed her eyes to sleep, ignoring him.

"Didn't want to frighten you," Tristan replied. Kayleigh's eyes snapped open.

"Men," she said, mimicking his earlier tone. "Why would I be frightened?"

"Why shouldn't you?" he asked, raising a brow. "In Woad territory. You shouldn't be alone."

"I'm not." She shifted her cloak and Toby's wet head popped out from beneath.

Tristan shook his head. "He stinks worse than the horses."

Kayleigh laughed. "It will keep the pigs away," she joked.

Tristan's lip twitched. "But not me."


	48. The Estate

Nobody slept well that night with the cold rain pouring down and every nocturnal sound making them jump after the Woad attack earlier that day. Finally, the rain had stopped and barely visible through the trees, the eastern sky began to lighten.

"Prepare to move out," Arthur announced as he stood up and stretched.

"Finally," Galahad muttered under his breath and rolled over, giving up on feigning sleep.

Jols jumped up to help Kayleigh prepare the horses as the knights rolled up blankets and checked armor and weapons.

"We should arrive at the estate by mid-day," Tristan informed Kayleigh as he lifted her saddle onto the horse's back.

Kayleigh nodded, forcing a smile. It wasn't the worry of Woads that kept her awake at night. The dream of her capture and return to Rome came to her again last night. She turned, glancing at the only Roman in their company.

Horton was still asleep, oblivious to the commotion around him. Wondering what kind of sheltered life he had in Rome, she strode over and nudged his leg with her boot. The secretary rolled over murmuring something about demons.

"Let me help you there," Bors offered, bending down until his face was near the man's ear. "Wakey, wakey, Christian."

Horton bolted upright, shrieking and came face to face with Kayleigh. "Oh," he sighed with relief. "You're a… a woman?" He looked her up and down as she glared at him. "Would you like help preparing breakfast?"

Any of the knights who were trying to hold their laughter lost it at that.

"No breakfast," Arthur's stern voice cut through the air. He was already mounted and eager to be on their way. "We leave now."

Horton scrambled to secure his belongings to the saddle, Toby nipping at his heels.

Lancelot nudged Kayleigh, "Your dog is good for one thing at least."

"One more thing than you're good for," Kayleigh shot back.

Lancelot grinned. "I'm good for a lot of things. Let me show you tonight."

Kayleigh rolled her eyes. "Really?"

Lancelot shrugged. "It's worked before."

Kayleigh could only shake her head in disbelief.

Horton had reluctantly mounted his own stead and they began the last leg of the journey north.

* * *

The ride was more miserable than the day before. A thick fog kept everything wet and heavy, and though the Woads did not attack, it felt like the very trees were watching them. It even made Kayleigh, whom was protected by Merlin, uneasy.

Finally the trees gave way to open, green valley, and with a slight turn on the path, the estate came into view. Cypress trees lined the small road unnaturally and a marble statue, so at odds with its surroundings, stood in salute to greet them. A swarm of people rushed forward to see who had come so far. The estates' doors were closing quickly now that the mounted party was sighted. Apparently they weren't accustomed to guests.

"Who are you?" a guard yelled down from the parapets above.

Kayleigh looked around at the people as Arthur identified himself. They looked thin and haggard, almost sickly. Some looked too old to be going about their certain tasks, some too young. Toby was ecstatic to have a new audience and began sniffing around, occasionally giving a lick here and there to the dirty hands that reached out to him.

Finally, the doors opened and a very different looking man emerged. It was evident to Kayleigh what was going on here. It made her stomach churn. She turned her horse and gave her free reign to roam as she pleased, as long as she was away from the estate.

After the Romans had retreated back to their villa, Tristan came up beside her. "Alright?"

Kayleigh shook her head. "No. I can't be here." It was all too uncomfortably familiar.

"Then we'll check the road, eh?" After getting clearance from Arthur, they made their way on the eastern road. Kayleigh sent a reluctant Toby back to the village and Tristan sent his hawk up into the sky. As the road curved, they cut through the thickening trees, riding in silence. After a few moments, the hawk returned, chattering an unknown code. Tristan reached into his pack and fed her a strip of dried rabbit before releasing her again.

"This way," he said, turning slightly north. Kayleigh followed wordlessly, in wonder of his methods and his choice to reveal them to her.

They climbed a steep slope, the horses loosing scree has they picked their way carefully upward. At the top, they dismounted, letting the horses rest. The valley below was hidden under a thick gray blanket.

"Another storm?" Kayleigh groaned.

"No," Tristan pointed, "look."

Kayleigh squinted. Under the cloud, a light flickered. "Is that-?"

"They're leaving everything they've conquered in ashes. They're taking no risks this time around."

Kayleigh's stomach lurched. "The villagers?"

Tristan shook his head. "No risks."

She forced herself to look. The tiny licking flames of the villages burning, the valley dotted with them, the black smoke rising to sting her eyes. How far above were they? The fires must be massive to be seen so far away, engulfing fields and flesh with its intense heat.

The Saxons weren't here to conquer. They were here to destroy. They were here for vengeance.

Kayleigh's gaze swept through the valley and halted to the north, her eyes widening. "No," she breathed.

Tristan followed her gaze. On a path far below them, a snaking trail of Saxons made their way steadily upward.

"Let's go," Tristan said, jolting Kayleigh from her thoughts. "We need to make sure the road is clear before reporting back."

Kayleigh nodded understanding and followed his lead silently. They made their way as quickly down the slope as was safe for the horses and returned to the road. After passing the village again, they veered south.

Suddenly he put a hand up and halted. Drums could be heard in the distance. They dismounted and crept among the trees until they reached a rocky overhang, belly crawling to peer over the edge. More Saxons marched along the winding road they had taken just hours before.

Kayleigh shuddered, hairs on her neck rose.

"They're getting smarter."

"What now?"

"Now," he said, inching backward until he was far enough from the edge to stand without being seen, "we find our escape route."

After finding a trail leading east into the mountains, they returned to the village. Kayleigh held back while Tristan reported to Arthur. The villagers were bustling about gathering supplies as snow began drifting down around her.

"What's going on?" she asked Galahad, the nearest knight to her.

He gave her a despairing laugh. "The villagers, they are to come with us. We'll never make it."

Kayleigh watched as servants brought load after load of housewares, clothing, food stuffs, and jeweled valuables from the estate to the awaiting wagons while the villagers milled around waiting anxiously.

"The villagers have nothing to bring. It will be this pompous Roman ass that slows us down."

Galahad nodded in agreement.

A change in wind brought the sound of deep drums upon it causing the horses to prance nervously and Kayleigh's heart to quicken. The Saxons were near.

They all looked to Arthur for commands, but he did as none of them had expected—dismounted. Drawing his sword from his scabbard with a metallic scrape he made his way over to a dark corner in the estate's defensive wall which a pair of robed men were just finishing sealing. The knights moved forward to protect their commander's back and Kayleigh followed reluctantly.

Marius stepped forward, yelling, attempting to intercede- until Bors blocked his path with his horse, sword drawn.

It only took a matter of moments for Dagonet to gain access to the tunnel. As soon as the door was kicked down, the smell of death enveloped them. Bile burned upward in Kayleigh's throat and she swallowed hard forcing it down. Dagonet, Lancelot, Arthur, and Gawain, shoving the pair of robed priests before him, disappeared into the gaping darkness.

Tristan glanced at Kayleigh, and seeing her face, finally drew his sword. He wasn't sure if he was keeping watch against what was outside or what was in. The snow began to fall harder and the drums grew louder. At length, Lancelot ducked out of the archway, his face darker than the snowstorm that descended upon them. Arthur followed a moment behind carrying a woman and calling for water, the others behind him. A pang of pity shot through the anxiety in Kayleigh's stomach as she watched Dagonet set a boy down, his arm clearly broken. To her surprise, it was the Bishop's man, Horton, and the lady of the estate that came forward to help.

"She's a woad," Tristan muttered, sheathing his sword.

Marius burst forward in a rage, yelling furiously, his jowls quivering. Kayleigh's hand went instinctively to her sword, gripping it so tightly, her knuckles turned white. Before anyone could stop him, he backhanded his wife, her body crumpling helplessly on the snowy ground. Arthur's fist flew out, hitting Marius square in the face, causing him to fall back, measuring his unimpressive length across the grass. Arthur pulled his sword from the ground, pointing it at Marius' throat.

The knights looked on with mixed expressions of boredom and impatience as Kayleigh gaped, shocked that Arthur would hit a nobleman of his own blood, no matter how much he deserved it. One of the robed men's mumblings abruptly interrupted Arthur's string of threats, much to Kayleigh's disappointment.

"Wall them up," Arthur ordered to nobody in particular. A stringy young man ran forward, grabbing the man by his robes. The mob followed, the fear dissipating. It was just, though it would delay their departure further.

The Roman guards reached down to help their leader up. Marius threw their hands off of him and ordered them to the wagons, trying to regain some sort of dignity. Kayleigh drew her horse away, taking a deep breath and trying to relax her hand from the hilt of her sword.

Lancelot led his mount next to hers. "You look sick," he commented, taking in her pallid face.

"I'm fine," Kayleigh snapped, wiping her sweaty palms on her breeches.

Lancelot bent down, pulled out a clump of grass and wiped the blood from his blade. "He deserved to die," he said angrily, glancing up at Kayleigh. "That place, the things they did to people…" he shook his head, words escaping him for once.

Gawain urged his horse forward catching up with them. "Arthur will make sure this Roman is punished for this!"

Kayleigh laughed bitterly. "Punished? He's under Roman law." She spat venomously. "In Rome he would be given a reward and paraded through the streets as a righteous man of God whose holy work should be admired and imulated."

"The way Arthur speaks of Rome—" Gawain started.

"He's wrong." Kayleigh uttered before setting heels to her steed, leaving the knights staring after her.


	49. The Long and Deadly Road

Thanks for all the readers who have hung in there with me. Here's the next chapter, chock full of- well, everything. Enjoy!

* * *

The assent into the mountains was slow. The villagers, half-starved as they were, kept up with the caravan, and when one straggled behind too far, there was always a sturdy shoulder willing to lend support. They had been through worse together.

The horses pulling the heavy-laden wagons trudged along, six knights riding among them. Dagonet was holed up in one such wagon tending to the injured. He had settled in with the young boy and Woad girl before leaving the estate. Tristan rode in front, picking their path carefully through the snow. Arthur ventured back and forth along the stretched line of people, making sure all was moving smoothly. Kayleigh stayed well behind the Roman, Marius, and his guards, not trusting them at her back.

Lancelot, in his anger, had long since abandoned Arthur to ride with Kayleigh at the rear. "This is a mistake," he carried on.

"None of us had a choice, including Arthur," Kayleigh reminded him, surprising herself with her stance on the argument.

"These people didn't need to come along," he muttered.

"No?" Kayleigh rose her eyebrows. "Would you leave them to die?"

Lancelot's jaw clenched. "We will all die now."

Kayleigh had nothing to say to that, after all, it was all she ever saw, day or night, awake or asleep. Blood, death, darkness. Her death had awoken something deep inside and it would not rest now.

"And you had a choice," Lancelot pointed out, pulling her out of her thoughts. "You should have stayed behind the Wall where you were safe."

Kayleigh laughed. "You think the Wall will stop the Saxons?" She shook her head. She had seen it. A hundred tiny cook fires spotting the field beyond the Wall. "Why do you think they're here?" she asked, a shiver running the length of her spine. Her hand rose unconsciously to the deep, angry scar marring her neck.

Lancelot frowned. "Is that what you think? They are here for you?"

Kayleigh shrugged. "I don't know," she sighed.

His charming grin surfaced unexpectedly. "That could be," he said. "I definitely would seek out a beautiful woman, such as yourself. And if I had to cross this damnable island and kill every Woad in sight to do it, it would just be a bonus."

Kayleigh couldn't help it, she laughed. "You're even going to try to charm me here? Now? Does your depravity have no bounds?"

"Especially here and now," Lancelot replied seriously. "What else is there?"

Kayleigh shrugged, having no answer. He smiled, seeing her hands around the reigns relax and the shadows from her eyes fade.

A scream from ahead proved his work in vain as the worry and anxiety resurfaced in the both of them. They exchanged a glance then nudged their mounts into a trot to investigate.

"Kayleigh, wait!" Galahad urged his horse forward planting himself in front of them.

"Galahad, what are you doing?" Kayleigh asked, flustered.

The knight looked away, avoiding her gaze. "What is it?" Lancelot asked, becoming uneasy at Galahad's behavior.

Fury, sensing the mood of her rider, snipped impatiently at Galahad's steed and nudged past. She heard Arthur reassuring the people and urging them to keep moving as she approached.

"No," Kayleigh breathed as the body-strewn field opened up before her. "No!" She dismounted, running to the nearest body, still gripping the standard of the Scotts in his frozen hand. Turning slowly, her eyes darted from body to body, searching. There were a number of Saxons among them, the army not bothering to stop long enough to bury their own.

"Over here," Lancelot called. Kayleigh raced over, careful to avoid trampling any bodies, and skidding to a stop on the frozen ground next to Lancelot. There, lay Airell, chieftain of the Scotts, and not too far away was his son, Dedric, a wall of dead Saxon bodies encircling them.

"They fought them off a while," Lancelot observed.

Kayleigh pulled Airell's sword from the abdomen of a nearby Saxon, and after using a handful of snow to clean off the blood, laid the hilt into the dead chieftain's frozen hand.

Tristan approached quietly, his boots hardly crunching on the frozen earth. "They are all dead."

"Cadell? Turi?"

"Cadell, yes," Tristan replied. "Turi isn't here."

Kayleigh frowned. Turi was second in command of the Scotti Champions and a massive man. If he were here, Tristan would have found him. "He never would have run from battle."

"Perhaps he stayed in Eire?" Lancelot suggested.

"No, he wouldn't have left the Champions," Kayliegh frowned. In the distance she heard Arthur urging the villagers on the road to continue walking.

"He's not here," Tristan repeated.

Arthur made his way over. "Tristan, we need you at the front."

"We can't just leave them like this," Kayleigh indicated the fallen warriors.

"There's no time," Arthur stated.

Kayleigh's fists balled at her side and despite the biting wind, she felt her face flush. "There was enough time to wall up two men who took pleasure in torturing innocent people!" The knights stopped what they were doing and turned to watch quietly.

Arthur's jaw clenched. "That was necessary- for the people."

A red haze materialized in Kayleigh's vision. "And it's not necessary to bury the leader of a people who fought a war for you? Whose people died for you?" she yelled.

"Everyone here will die if we linger any longer," Arthur replied grimly.

"Go then," Kayleigh yelled, pointing to the road. "Go! I will do the honorable thing!"

"I'll help," Gawain offered, stepping forward. "They saved my life."

"We will catch up with you," Lancelot said before Arthur could command otherwise.

"An hour, no longer," Arthur demanded. He turned back toward the caravan. "Tristan!" he called over his shoulder.

Tristan picked up a rock at his feet and handed it to Kayleigh before following Arthur reluctantly.

Less than an hour later, Kayleigh, Lancelot, and Gawain rejoined the caravan. They had worked quickly and silently, laying stone after icy stone upon three separate graves.

"I wish we could have buried them all," Kayleigh told Tristan once she joined him at the front.

"You did what you could," he murmured. "It's enough."

Kayleigh nodded. "They didn't burn them," she pointed out, not bothering to ask if he had noticed. "They left them to the animals and elements."

"Yes," Tristan concurred.

"Will they do the same to us?" Kayleigh asked, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

Tristan shrugged. "Only if they catch us."

Hoof beats approach from behind and Arthur pulled his horse up beside Tristan's. "We'll need to stop soon," he said, ignoring Kayleigh. "The people can't go much longer."

"Here's as good as anywhere," he told his commander, pulling his horse to the side of the road. They were passing a large frozen meadow. It was enough room for everyone and running water could be heard in the distance.

Arthur glanced around. "We'd be out in the open."

"We'd spot the Saxons before they're upon us," Tristan replied.

Arthur considered and looked back at the straggling line of villagers then up at the darkening sky. "It looks like we don't have much choice. Halt!" he called out to the wagons passing by. Dagonet came out of the wagon to investigate and the knights gathered around Arthur.

Arthur informed them all of his plans to make camp and sent Tristan to scout the trail for tomorrow. Kayleigh watched as he sent Ayn to flight and raced after her trail. To have such freedom…

She hardly noticed the knights around her moving to obey Arthur's orders and their commander's voice in the background directing the villagers.

"'Tis a beautiful country, is it not?" a woman's voice pierced Kayleigh's thoughts.

Startled, she turned to see the Woad woman address Lancelot. He remained atop his horse, turning his head to look at the tattooed woman.

"If you say so," he replied, unconvinced.

"And where do you come from that compares? The Black Sea?" she asked.

Kayleigh narrowed her eyes.

Lancelot did turn around then, hiding his disbelief a little better than her.

"This is heaven for me," she continued.

He fed her one of his charmingly lines he routinely does to fill an awkward silence, but Kayleigh noticed the absence of his usual mischievous smirk. After their grim labor earlier, she figured he had no heart for flirting.

She turned away then, as the rain began to fall alongside the snow, to find Jols. After gathering what little dry firewood they could find among the trees and lighting small fires for the villagers, they went about gathering the knight's horses. Galahad, Gawain, and Bors were set along the perimeter of camp to keep the first watch, while Dagonet, Lancelot, and Arthur rested.

"You rest," Kayeligh told Jols.

"I couldn't if I tried," Jols replied, with a forced smile.

"Don't try," Kayleigh suggested. "Just lie down and close your eyes. Soon, you'll awake to tomorrow."

Jols hesitated.

"I'll wait for Tristan," she added slowly.

Jols mouth opened to reply, then snapped closed. "Right," he said with a genuine smile this time. "I'll just…" he pointed behind him and began walking.

Kayleigh shook her head and continued brushing the dried sweat and rain from Lancelot's horse. She had found a nicely protected area, both from the wind and snow. It was also secluded from the villagers and Romans, which provided her with a small sense of protection.

The work had done its job- keeping her busy and warming her up. She removed her hood and cloak, feeling as if steam was rising off her skin.

"Friend of beasts," a man's voice greeted from the trees behind her.

Kayleigh whorled, pulling her sword free. The horses whinnied, stamping their feet in alarm.

"Ah," Merlin smiled at her, white teeth in contrast with his blue skin. "We've done this before."

"Why are you here?" Kayleigh growled. The lightning bolt along her sword gave off a faint red glow.

"Angry are we?" he asked. "Good."

"Speak sense old man!" Kayleigh hissed.

Merlin held up a hand. "I am not here for you."

Kayleigh's eyebrows creased in thought. "The Woad woman."

"Yes, very wise," he replied. "Except when it comes to your own nature. You have yet to figure that out."

"What do you know if it?" she asked furiously, the red glow growing brighter. "I know I buried friends today, at least, the ones I had time to, while you hid in the trees, careful not to smudge your paint! Oh, yes, I could smell you."

"Careful, girl," he warned. "Those aren't the last of your friends to die."

With a cry, Kayleigh swung her sword. Merlin neatly blocked with his staff before swinging it behind Kayleigh's feet. She landed with a thud on her back, the air retreating with a rush from her lungs. "They will not die by my hand," he added calmly. "And our warriors are amassing to join with yours- under the right leader."

Kayleigh rolled over, coughing.

"Kayleigh," Gawain stepped into the sheltered clearing. "Are you well?" he asked, rushing to her side and helping her up.

"Yes," she rasped, glancing around but finding Merlin gone. "I slipped."

"Slipped?" he asked confused. "I heard a yell and the horses sounded frightened. I thought-"

"No," Kayleigh replied. "It's just a bit icy there," she said, pointing where she had fallen. "I'm fine, really."

Gawain watched her, skeptical, before nodding and returning to his post.

She sighed with relief, which sent her into another fit of coughing. Finding a water skin, she took a gulp, letting the cold liquid sooth her dry throat. She picked up her cloak, spreading it on a patch of dry pine needles. It would make a fine bed for a night on the road.

A twig snapped behind her and for the third time that night, Kayleigh jumped. "Tristan," she said, putting her hand over her pounding heart. "You're back."

"You're here alone?" he asked, concern accenting his voice.

She glanced around, worried his sharp eyes had seen something. "Yes?" she replied, watching him loop the reigns of his horse over a tree branch.

"Good," he whispered, striding over to her. Tristan plunged his hands into her hair, pulled her to him, and kissed her hard.

* * *

Reviews _needed_! I don't know what these characters are doing. They've hijacked my story.


	50. Hunting Saxons

WARNING: The first part of this chapter may be rated M. By chapter 50, I figure you all are in for the long haul and deserve it. If you find it offensive, skip over it. If you find bad, corny writing offensive, skip over it.

* * *

"Tristan," Kayleigh whispered, untangling his hands from her hair. Taking a step back, she wrapped her arms around her torso, suddenly cold despite the warm flush on her face.

He took a soft step toward her. "Kayleigh," he said reassuringly, smoothing her hair from her eyes. Tristan held her face, cradled gently between his calloused hands. "I will never hurt you. Never," he said with such tenderness it melted the icy fear from her heart.

A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed, trying to dislodge it unsuccessfully. His stoic mask fell away and she gazed into his eyes. The intensity of his desire struck her almost as unexpectedly as his kiss. But it wasn't a brutal desire that she had experienced as a slave. It was a longing to be with her, not just physically, not just for tonight.

The warmth that had thawed her heart raged through her like a fire burning all doubt and uncertainty away until all was left was an urgent hunger.

"If you don't—"

Kayleigh kissed him, silencing his words. She showed him with lips and tongue what she could not tell him in words.

_I trust you. I want you._

They fell together on her makeshift bed under the stars. All the pent up passion and frustration over the past few months seethed to the surface before exploding with a final shuddering breath of ecstasy.

Afterward, Kayleigh undressed Tristan, relieved to find his body as marred with scars as hers. And she let him peel the sweaty tunic from her back, her breeches long since discarded. He traced her scars with gentle fingers, his rough skin barely touching hers. When his trail of kisses stopped at the last scar, the slave brand on her left thigh, she almost wished she had more so he would never stop.

Tristan drew himself up atop her and she welcomed him with a sigh. His braids curtaining their faces as he kissed her, moving slowly to luxuriate in the sensations of pleasure. In the end, they fell into exhausted sleep, a tangle of sweaty limbs underneath Tristan's jacket.

* * *

Kayleigh awoke to Tristan stirring beneath her and smiled, running a hand across his bare chest, his hair soft under her fingers. Grabbing her hand, he laughed softly, turning it over to kiss her palm. "We are in the middle of nowhere," he reminded her, "with about a hundred other people around us."

She rose an eyebrow. "That didn't stop us last night."

"No," he replied, looking up at the sky. It was still dark with spots of starlight shining between blots of black cloud. They had slept a couple hours, at best, but felt as refreshed as if they had slept longer. "I need to get out there before I lose the cover of darkness."

Kayleigh frowned.

"Coming?" he asked standing up and holding out his hand.

She grabbed his jacket. "I'm naked!" she hissed.

"I know," he said, grinning. "It's a bit too late for modesty."

Kayleigh smiled despite herself and threw his jacket at his face before scrambling for her own scattered clothing.

They worked together in efficient silence preparing the horses, packing what little they had unpacked last night, and checking supplies. Tristan conferred quickly with Bors, who was keeping watch on the southernmost outskirts of camp. Bors nodded and Tristan turned to mount his horse, Kayleigh following suit. Then they took off down the road in the direction they had come the day before.

"What exactly are we doing out here?" Kayleigh asked as they rode side by side.

"Hunting," he said, throwing her a grin. Obviously, his mood had improved as much as hers had since yesterday.

Kayleigh blushed, memories of last night swimming in her head. All these years, that was what it was supposed to feel like. It was the complete opposite of what had been engrained into her as a slave. It had been amazingly beautiful.

It had been so long since she felt the emotion, it took her a few moments to realize it was joy. Joy that felt like bursting from her chest and lighting the dark world with a million blazing stars.

The thought made her laugh lightly and Tristan turned to look at her questioningly. She just shook her head in disbelief.

Ayn circled above them then swooped to land on a nearby branch with a flutter. She chattered quietly, caulking her head at Tristan and Kayliegh, then took flight like a bow from an arrow into the wood.

"Let's go!" Tristan called over his shoulder already galloping after the hawk on a small deer trail. Kayleigh put heels to Fury and raced after them. Moments later, Tristan halted sharply, Kayleigh barely stopping in time to prevent a collision. He held his hand up to draw her attention and pointed to his ear.

The snow had begun to fall lightly again and the only sound in the dark of the forest was the occasional snap of frozen branch and resulting fall of snow in the distance. Kayleigh shook her head. She didn't hear any animals.

Somewhere in the distance she heard a voice- a voice speaking a familiar foreign tongue. They dismounted, tied the horses to a gray tree, and moved forward silently, flanking the men. There were four of them, the man foremost carrying a flaming torch aloft to light the way.

Once they were close enough, Tristan stooped, handing Kayleigh his bow and arrow while he pulled his sword silently from its sheath. He motioned his plan to her and she nodded understanding. He snuck off disappearing into the darkness. Kayleigh notched an arrow and waited, keeping a sharp eye on the group of Saxons moving ever closer to her hiding place.

A call went up from across the track sounding much like an owl. Kayleigh let the arrow fly. It hit its target and the Saxon with the torch fell with a thud to the ground, the wet snow gutting the flame instantly. The darkness blinded men scrambled for their weapons. The man nearest to Kayleigh shot a crossbow bolt in her general direction, missing by feet. Kayleigh returned fire, careful not to hit Tristan who was busy dispatching of the trailing Saxons from behind. The arrow landed in the hollow of the man's throat, just above the furry collar of his cloak. His mouth opened to cry out but all that escaped was a bloody gurgle before he fell face first into the snow.

She came out from the brush as Tristan wiped his blade off in the snow. She approached the dead man, nudging him with her boot to turn him over. Ripping the crossbow from his hand, she examined it in the lightening sky. Tristan pulled a bolt from his supply and joined her.

"We need to get back," he said, pulling Kayleigh along. She nearly had to jog to keep up with his long strides. "They must be warned."

"Fine," Kayleigh replied, ripping her arm from his grasp, "But I can walk on my own."

Tristan took the crossbow from her as she mounted, throwing it over his shoulder. He swung up in his own saddle, grasping the reigns tightly and kicked his horse into a gallop much too quick for the trail they were on. Kayleigh cursed and urged her horse to race after them. A branch cut across Kayleigh's cheek and she leaned in closer to Fury's neck, grumbling in annoyance.

"Tristan!" she called as they finally reached the road.

He slowed just enough for her to catch up but kept up the grueling pace. "We're out of time," he shouted over the rush of wind and thunder of hooves.

They reached camp moments later to find the watch posts abandoned. "What's happened?" Tristan called out to the man called Ganis.

"There was yelling, there," he pointed toward the cluster of wagons.

Tristan and Kayleigh made their way over in time to see Jols picking up the Roman's weapons.

"How many did ya kill?" Bors asked as they approached.

"Four," Tristan answered.

"Not a bad start to the day!" Bors exclaimed with a laugh.

Tristan threw the crossbow down at Arthur's feet. "Armor piercing," he reported urgently. "They're close. We have no time."

"You ride ahead," Arthur commanded and turned to get the people moving.

Tristan glanced at Kayleigh, noticing the trail of blood trickling down her face. "You're hurt?"

"It's nothing," Kayleigh replied. "Go. I will help here."

He nodded, turning his eyes south, searching. Ayn gave a cry overhead and he took off once more.

Kayleigh dismounted, taking in the scene. The Roman lord lay dead in the snow, a single arrow protruding from his chest. Dagonet was comforting the boy and checking his injuries simultaneously.

"Was he harmed?" Kayleigh asked.

Dagonet shook his head. "I knew those men where trouble. I shouldn't have taken my eyes off them."

"We all needed sleep," Kayleigh replied, then blushed.

Luckily, he didn't turn around to see it. "Will you check on the family?"

"If I must," she replied, dragging her feet all the way to the woman hunched over her husband and the boy standing nearby, completely devoid of emotion.

"Are you injured?" she asked, startling the woman.

"N-no," the woman replied, swiping her sleeve across her face. "I don't know why I cry, I hated the man." Kayleigh's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't say that. He's dead," she continued motioning toward the body. "I just… what am I supposed to do now?"

Kayleigh grasped her shoulders helping her to stand. "Get you and your boy into the wagon. We will figure it out on the way," she said, guiding the Roman away from her husband's body. Jols had already brought the horses and was helping the driver hitch them to the wagon.

"Need help?" Kayleigh asked once the family was inside.

Jols shook his head. "These are the last of them," he replied.

"You must have been up early," Kayleigh commented.

"I couldn't sleep through all the noise you two were making."

Kayleigh gasped and punched him in the shoulder.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, rubbing the sore spot. "I don't think anyone else heard you, except Toby who—"

"Toby!" Kayleigh had forgotten all about the mutt. "Where is he?"

Jols shrugged. "Picking scraps off the villagers most likely."

It didn't take much time to find him, she just followed the sound of squealing children. Once he spotted her, he abandoned whatever game he was playing and bounded toward her, ears flopping back with the wind.

"Hey, boy, where you been?" she asked as he jumped up on her, then laid down so she could rub his belly. The cold wetness of the snow seeped into his fur and he jumped up and shook his fur coat sending droplets flying.

Kayleigh laughed at his antics.

"He is good entertainment," a woman's voice cut through the air.

Kayleigh looked up to meet the Woad woman's dark eyes. "He also has a mean bite," Kayleigh warned.

"I've heard," the woman laughed softly. "I'm Guinevere," she added.

"I know who you are," Kayleigh replied, eyes narrowed.

"You don't trust me."

"I have no reason to."

Guinevere tilted her head, regarding her. "I'm not here to come between you and the knights."

"No," Kayleigh agreed. "Just between Arthur and the knights." Guinevere's silence confirmed Kayleigh's theory. "Come, Toby," she called over her shoulder as she walked away.

* * *

The caravan was under way in less time than Kayleigh expected. After the morning's events, everyone was eager to move forward. Rumor had spread among the people that the Saxon army was close on their trail setting speed to their feet.

Lancelot, Gawain, and Kayleigh rode to the front, Toby trotting alongside.

"I'm just saying I heard some strange noises last night," Gawain was saying when Arthur thundered forward placing himself directly in front of Kayleigh causing them all to halt.

"You knew!" he yelled at her accusingly.

"Knew?" Kayleigh asked, stumped.

"Pelagus!" he said through gritted teeth.

Kayleigh looked at Lancelot and Gawain for help. "Arthur, I don't understand," she confessed.

"Understand?" Arthur hissed. "He's dead!"

"Dead?" Kayleigh asked, connecting the dots in her head.

"You knew."

"Arthur," Lancelot interceded.

"No! Why must you always defend her?"

"Because you're always attacking her!"

"I've been here almost two years!" Kayleigh interrupted. "He was alive when I left Rome-very unpopular- but alive."

Arthur stared at her. "Unpopular how?"

Kayleigh shrugged. "I wasn't too involved in politics," she stated blatantly.

Arthur's eyes narrowed.

She sighed. "Everyone who owned slaves—which was just about everyone who wasn't a slave—thought him a nuisance and troublemaker. He had a long list of enemies, any one of them could have killed him."

"It was Germanius," Arthur whispered, still trying to process it all.

"The bishop back at the wall?" Gawain asked.

Arthur nodded.

Kayleigh bit her lip nervously at the sound of his name.

"Do bishops normally go around killing people?" Gawain asked absentmindedly.

Arthur sat unhearing in his own world as the caravan moved slowly past.

Kayleigh rose a questioning eyebrow at Lancelot, who nodded gravely in return. "Come on, Gawain," she said, flicking the reins and steering her mount around the frozen commander.

"I hope you never have to wear that look," she told Gawain after a moment.

"What look?"

"That look he had on his face. That look that your world is turned upside down. That look when you realize truths were lies and facts were fiction." Kayleigh shook her head. "I've seen that look too many times, and nothing good ever comes of it."

They had regained their position at the front of the caravan just as Tristan returned. Just the sight of him put a foolish grin on Kayleigh's face. Tristan smiled back at her as he drew rein on his horse.

"Alright," Gawain's irritated voice popped up between them. "What happened with you two?"

"Tell me you have good news to report," Kayleigh said, ignoring Gawain.

"The path ends at a lake," he replied. "The ice may be strong enough for us to cross."

"Ice?" Kayleigh asked with a shiver, a cold finger of dread running down her spine.

Tristan nodded. "The lake is frozen. There's no way around."

* * *

Okay, lay it on me. It took awhile to post this chapter because I've never written a love scene and romance in general just makes me uncomfortable. Anyway, hopefully the next chapter will come quicker. Reviews ALWAYS help!


	51. Hold the Ice

I know, it's been awhile. Happy New Year.

* * *

Kayleigh stepped gingerly across the blue ice, her stomach in knots. Every creak and groan caused her heart to jump into her throat. She glanced at the knights, wondering if they felt the same. Her gaze fell over Dagonet and memories of her dream surface before her- his hand reaching for hers, an unbreakable sheet of ice between them, and the bubbles of air escaping his purple lips as he sank into the depths of the dark water.

"Knights?" Arthur's voice cut through Kayleigh's memory, bringing her back to the present. The Saxons had gained ground, their drums beating painfully louder. Each knight assented, in his own way, to stand and fight.

Kayleigh wanted to protest. Cross the ice first and fight on land. But she was not one of them and had no say. She wondered if it would make a difference. Perhaps the losses on land would be greater. What if this was the best solution?

She shook her head. If one died, it would be one too many. She made a promise to Vanora. They would all come back alive.

"Alright?" She felt Tristan's hands on her cheeks, cupping her face lightly. "Kay?"

"No," she whispered, looking up at him. "But it will be."

"You should go with them, make sure they get to the Wall," he nodded at the departing caravan.

"No," she said more forcefully. "I'm not leaving you, any of you."

She walked past him to Jols and began helping his unload the weapons from the horses, setting each knight's arms in a neat pile on the ice. Before long, they were prepared and stood quietly awaiting the Saxon army.

They stood motionless as the Saxons paraded onto the ice and let loose one lonely arrow that skidded pathetically across the ice before them. At Arthur's command, Bors and Tristan fired a volley of arrows that easily crossed the distance between them and found their home in a handful of Saxon bodies. With nothing left for them to do, the Saxon army advanced, black flags flying grimly overhead.

"Aim for the wings of the ranks," Arthur directed. "Make them cluster."

They fired at the left wing, then the right. The Saxons on the ends moved closer to the middle, creating a large mass of bodies. They stomped closer, the ice thundering in protest under their weight.

The Saxon commander realized what Arthur was doing and roared at his men, but to not much effect. They marched onward and the ice held.

Arthur realized this and knew they were running out of time. "Fall back," he commanded. "Prepare for battle."

The knights dropped their bows and picked up their weapons of choice. Kayleigh had positioned herself between Galahad and Dagonet, and carefully watched the latter pick up his sword. Dagonet glared at the advancing Saxons, dropped his sword, picked up his axe, and ran forward with a battle cry.

"Dag!" Bors yelled.

"No!" Kayleigh cried, pausing long enough to scoop up Galahad's shield and run after him. Shouting erupted behind her but she didn't have the time to look back, Dagonet was already half way across the ice.

The Saxon archers moved forward at a surprisingly fast pace, planting themselves for a steady shot. A volley of arrows darted toward her and she dropped to her knees, skidding across the ice. Beneath her, the ice vibrated as Dagonet's axe bit into it. Kayleigh scrambled the last couple feet to Dagonet, arrows whistling above her as she skidded to a stop between him and the Saxons.

"Kay!" Dagonet shouted, his tone surprised and disapproving at the same time.

"Hurry!" Kayleigh yelled back. An arrow hit the absurdly small shield she was holding, throwing her backward. As she stood, Dagonet's axe came down again, the ice around them shuddering. The knights behind them were still firing, taking Saxons out, but not fast enough.

A biting pain pierced Kayleigh's leg and it gave way, forcing her to drop to one knee. She heard an arrow lodge into Dagonet's armor with a thud and didn't dare turn to look. He gave a mighty cry, the axe ringing as it hit the ice, and it shattered around them.

Kayleigh barely had time to pull her dagger from her boot before the ice slid from under her feet. She thrust the blade into a solid piece of ice and reached up for Dagonet just as he slumped and slid into the freezing water.

"No," she screamed, grasping onto the collar of his armored jacket. He was unmoving, the depths sucking at his massive form. Kayleigh's arms shook with the effort to keep them both above water.

Arthur slid to a stop before the edge. "Take him!" she shouted over the clamor. Men were screaming and arrows continued to fly above them. She didn't know who was alive, who was dead, or who was winning the battle. All she knew was that Dagonet would die if he wasn't attended to soon.

With some effort, Arthur hauled Dagonet out of the water, setting him on the ice, then grasped Kayleigh's wrist and easily pulled her from the freezing water.

"Take him," she yelled again. "Go!"

Kayleigh looked down at her left leg, an arrow protruded from her thigh. She knew she had been hit but couldn't feel it at all now. Grasping the haft, she yanked the arrow out and tossed it into the water.

Bors had reached Arthur and glanced back at Kayleigh. "I'm okay," she assured him. He nodded and helped Arthur pull an unmoving Dagonet back toward the knights. The ice shifted and cracked, and Kayleigh scrambled backward. The Saxon army had withdrawn far enough that she could walk back without worrying about getting an arrow in the back.

Tristan ran to meet her. "You alright?" he asked, grasping her shoulders to steady her on her feet.

She nodded. "Dagonet—"

"He's alive," Tristan answered. He caught her as her knees buckled. "You're hurt!"

"My legs are numb, from the water," she explained. Tristan narrowed his eyes skeptically.

"Take shelter in the trees," Arthur commanded. "Gawain, build a fire."

Tristan scooped Kayleigh up in his arms, carrying her steadily until they reached solid ground. He set her down gently on the snow.

"Is she hurt?" Lancelot asked. Tristan shook his head.

"She is right here," Kayleigh stated, annoyed. "Freezing, but fine."

"I have a blanket in my pack," Tristan said, turned to retrieve it.

Kayleigh got sight of Dagonet lying on the snow a ways away from her. "We must help-" she began to rise.

Lancelot pushed her back down. "There is enough help." It was true. Arthur and the other knights were bustling about him. Even the Pict girl looked like she was making herself useful.

"How bad is it?" she asked, resting her back against a tree.

"I don't know if he'll make it," Lancelot replied honestly. "We need to get him back to the wall."

Tristan returned with the blanket and laid it over her.

"Bring back the caravan," Kayleigh said, grasping his arm desperately.

"Jols can go," Tristan replied.

"It's been snowing. Their tracks could be covered by now. Besides, you're the fastest rider," Kayleigh reasoned. "If Dagonet is to have a chance…"

"She's right," Arthur agreed, overhearing. "Dagonet can't ride. By the time we construct a litter, you could be back with the cart."

Tristan nodded. He turned to Lancelot. "Build a fire, make sure she gets warm."

"Oh, I will. By any means necessary," Lancelot winked at Kayleigh. A muscle in Tristan's jaw twitched. "Alright," Lancelot threw up his hands. "Not any means."

Tristan grunted and turned, whistling for Ayn. The hawk flew overhead with a shriek and Tristan mounted, riding after her.

Lancelot went about making a fire as Kayleigh shivered.

He dropped a pile of twigs at her feet. "You know, the quickest way to warm you up would be-"

"Shut up, Lancelot."

"I just think if you at least take off your wet clothes-"

"Not going to happen," Kayleigh replied.

Lancelot built the little fire up until it was roaring and Kayleigh could feel the heat on her face. She drew in a breath, hissing between her teeth.

"What is it?" Lancelot asked, concerned.

"My legs," she cried. "The numbness is gone." Kayleigh bit her lip to keep herself from screaming in agony at the pins and needles sensation.

Lancelot rushed over and pulled the blanket back. They looked normal beside the stain of blood on her left pant leg and the pool of red snow beneath her. "You are hurt!"

"It's nothing," she replied, covering the wound with her hand.

Lancelot pulled out his dagger, pushed Kayleigh's hand away and cut the length of her pant leg.

"Lancelot, no!" Kayleigh cried, attempting to cover herself with the blanket.

"Look," Lancelot pointed the dagger at her, "you can either let me tend to your wound, or I can call Gawain and Galahad over here to hold you down while I tend to your wound."

Kayleigh swallowed and sat back against the tree. This was not going to end well.

Lancelot pulled the fabric, sticky with blood, away from the wound and inspected it carefully. "Looks deep," he told her. "You're lucky it didn't break the bone."

"Yes, I suppose," she replied through clenched teeth. She glanced over at Dagonet, still unmoving on the ground. Bors and Gawain were working over him.

"I need some supplies," he told her, standing up. He returned with two wine skins, a roll of bandages, and thread and needle. "Drink this," he handed her one of the skins.

She took a sip. "Wine?" she laughed bitterly. "This isn't nearly strong enough." A hiss escaped her lips as Lancelot poured wine from the other skin into her wound.

"You'll need stitches," Lancelot told her once the blood was washed away. "What's this?" he asked of the strange scar on her thigh.

"Nothing," she replied, swiping up his knife from the snow beside her. "Stitches? It will take ages for my leg to heal," she protested, leaning over to put the blade into the fire.

"This mark," Lancelot went on, ignoring her complaint, "I've seen something like it before."

Kayleigh was mesmerized by the reflection of the flames on the blade of steel. "Don't say it." The look of shock and devastation on his face was unbearable. She lifted the red hot dagger from the coals. "I'm sorry," she said before pressing the blade to her wound. This time she couldn't hold it back. She screamed and the world turned black.


	52. Damage Control

At Kayleigh's scream, Gawain came running to investigate. He found her unconscious, blood covering her left thigh, and the scent of burnt flesh filled the air. "What the hell happened?" he asked, bending to check Kayleigh's pulse. It was erratic but strong.

"It can't be…" Lancelot murmured. "She can't possibly – she's not."

"Lancelot!" Gawain had never seen him so ineloquent. His comrade continued muttering to himself and staring at the injured woman. Gawain shook his head and turned back to Kayleigh, attending to her wounds with the supplies that Lancelot had brought. Upon closer inspection, he found another scar on her leg that looked like a healed burn mark. Tilting his head, he could almost make out symbols in the pink, shiny skin.

"Is that a… brand?" Gawain asked, squinting at the mark.

"What's going on here?" Arthur demanded.

"Nothing!" Gawain squeaked, bolting upright.

"Is she injured?" Arthur asked, glancing around the knight at Kayleigh.

Gawain leaned over, blocking his view. "Just a minor wound. It's taken care of."

Arthur's brow rose. "Is it?" he asked dubiously, turning to Lancelot.

"What?" Lancelot replied dumbly.

"Yes!" Gawain interjected. "He means yes, right Lancelot?"

"Right?" Lancelot gambled.

Arthur gave a disapproving frown. "You said something about a brand…"

"No!" Gawain started, and at Arthur's deepening frown, "Yes! Yes!" He laughed nervously. "I said she would be brand new after a few weeks."

"Weeks? You said it was a minor wound," Arthur pointed out.

"Well…"

"Let me have a look," Arthur stated, brushing Gawain aside.

That brought Lancelot from his stupor. "Arthur, wait!"

Suddenly, a mangy dog burst from the bushes, weaving his way through their legs.

"Toby!" Lancelot scolded the dog while trying to regain his balance.

The dog found his mistress and began planting wet kisses on her cold face as a horse skidded to a stop on the snow near them.

"What the hell is going on?!" Tristan demanded, glancing down at Kayleigh's exposed leg, the bandage, and the mark of her darkest secret displayed for all to see. He dismounted and shoved his way through the men, teeth bared. Even Gawain didn't think twice about moving out of his way. They watched him snap the blanket protectively back over her leg and lift her effortlessly into his arms. The knights and commander gave him a wide berth as he plodded carefully through the snow to the returning caravan.

After a moment of stunned silence, Arthur gave commands to get Dagonet loaded into a wagon and turned to seek out Ganis. The two knights exchanged anxious glances before parting.

* * *

"You should have told me you were hurt," Tristan growled as he set Kayleigh down in the wagon with the other injured.

The Roman Lady pulled the young boy to her side in the corner farthest from the imposing knight. An old woman lay unmoving under a pile of heavy furs.

Ignoring them, Tristan continued in Sarmatian, "I never would have left you alone with _them_."

Kayleigh sighed wearily. "It was worth the risk."

"No!" Tristan asserted. "Not now. Not when the Bishop is here."

"Especially now, when you and Dagonet, are so close to freedom," she argued. "I was brought back from the dead for a reason."

"And that reason is to get killed by Saxons again?"

"No," Kayleigh huffed, frustrated. "I dreamt Dagonet was trapped in ice. What is the purpose of living if I could not prevent his death?"

Tristan's jaw clenched. "If you had told me—"

"I didn't know until—"

He stood in the wagon. "We are knights! For fifteen years we have fought side by side. It is our duty and privilege to protect one another."

"Dagonet is like a brother to me, too," she declared. "And because I'm not a knight, I have no right to risk my life to save his?"

"No," Tristan corrected, "Because you have no right dying on me again."

Kayleigh snapped her mouth shut on the argument she was planning to make. She hadn't expected that answer.

"How many times do you think you'll come back?" He knelt to examine her leg, unwinding the linen bandage with gentle fingers.

Having no answer, she remained silent.

Tristan grimaced when the bandage fell away from the wound. "Why did you do this?"

"If you had seen Lancelot's face," she shook her head, unable to continue.

"Who else saw?"

Kayleigh leaned her head back against the wicker siding of the wagon. "I don't know. I lost consciousness," she admitted, feeling foolish.

Tristan gave a curt nod and began re-wrapping her leg. When he was finished, he draped a heavy blanket over her shoulders. "Keep warm."

Kayleigh grasped his wrist as he made to leave. "Do you think Dagonet was right? Do you trust them with this?"

Tristan shook his head, his hair falling across his face. "Not Arthur," he replied.

He slipped past Bors and Gawain as they loaded Dagonet's limp form into the wagon. Fulcinia rushed forward to assist leaving the boy alone momentarily.

Gawain took one glance at Kayleigh and fled.

_Well_, she thought, _that answers one question. Gawain knows._

A small sniffle came from the opposite side of the wagon. "Lucan, is it?" Kayleigh asked as the wagon jolted forward. The caravan was once again underway.

The boy nodded, eying her cautiously.

"I'm Kayleigh, Dagonet's friend," she introduced herself.

"Is he dead?" Lucan asked in a small, shaky voice.

"No," Kayleigh answered.

"Is he going to die?" he asked, watching Fulcinia pile the remaining blankets atop the knight.

"He better not," Bors grumbled.

"He fell in the lake," Kayleigh told the boy. "He just needs to warm up."

"Oh." Lucan stood, shrugged from the fur cloak he was bundled in, and handed it to Fulcinia. "He needs it more. I don't want him to die. Everyone around me dies."

Tears slipped down Fulcinia's face as she took the proffered cloak.

"Here," Kayleigh held her arm out, "we will share mine." After some encouragement from Fulcinia, Lucan joined Kayleigh. She drew her arm around him, enveloping him in warmth. "It happens to me too." After a questioning gaze, she continued. "People seem to die around me."

"My parents died," he said, gauging her reaction.

"I know," she replied, pulling him tighter to her side. "Mine too."

Lucan relaxed, comforted by this morbid similarity they had. He rested his head on her shoulder and yawned.

"And my brother," Kayleigh stated. "He used to tell me this story about horses…"


	53. Confessions

As dusk fell, Arthur called a halt to the caravan. The people, who were malnourished and weak to begin with, were struggling to keep pace with the wagons. What provisions remained were passed around equally among them, and they huddled in small groups around campfires in attempts to stay warm. Tristan was out scouting tomorrow's trail and Marius' men were keeping watch around the perimeter. Bors kept an eye on Dagonet and Lucan in the cart. The remaining three knights gathered around their own fire apart from the villagers.

"What do we do, Lancelot?" Gawain urgently whispered, looking around to make sure no one else was within ear shot.

Lancelot shrugged and shook his head. "What is there to do?"

"I just can't believe it," Gawain breathed.

"Believe what?" Galahad asked, stuffing the remainder of a hard biscuit in his mouth.

"Nothing," Lancelot said, narrowing his eyes at Gawain. "If she had wanted us to know, she would have told us."

"Know what?" Galahad asked, spraying crumbs everywhere.

"Yes, it would be so simple to just say it," Gawain replied sarcastically.

Galahad swallowed. "Say what?" he asked, completely confused.

"To say I was a slave," Kayleigh announced from the darkness beyond their campfire.

"What?!" Galahad exclaimed.

Gawain jumped up in surprise.

Kayleigh hobbled forward, careful not to stretch the burnt skin on her thigh. Lancelot's eyebrows rose when she stepped into the light. "Don't say a word," she glowered, folding her arms across her pink clad chest. Admitting she was a slave was nothing compared to the humiliation of being seen in this Roman style dress Fulcinia lent her.

Lowering herself gently onto a fallen log near the fire, she shot Lancelot a pointed look. "And you owe me a new pair of pants."

"Why?" he asked. "I didn't shoot you. Besides, I like your new look." He gave her his most charming grin.

"If I hadn't lost my dagger in the ice, I would throw it at you," she grumbled.

"Uh…," Galahad ran a hand through his dark curls, "I must have heard you wrong. Did you say 'slave'?"

"That's right," Kayleigh confirmed. "Gawain, sit down."

The knight shut his mouth and plopped down in the snow, completely missing the rock he had been using as a seat.

"You're right," she told Gawain as she watched him brush the snow from himself and gained his original seat. "It is something difficult to bring up in conversation, let alone talk about." She turned her gaze to Lancelot. "And it isn't something I would like people to know. It is the darkest spot in my past, and I hope none of you have to know the whole of it."

Tristan materialized, placing his coat over Kayleigh's shoulders and sitting next to her on the log. "We will be at the Wall by mid-morning," he informed them.

"The Wall…" Kayleigh murmured. The image of Germanius surfaced in her mind and she shivered. Drawing strength from Tristan's solid presence, she continued, "Back at the Wall, I'm afraid you will be told the whole of it, so I would rather you hear it from me."

The knights nodded solemnly in reply. Galahad, still reeling from her revelation asked, "Why would we learn of it when we return? You've been with us for years now and you've managed to keep it secret."

"Yes, and maybe I have kept it secret for too long," Kayleigh replied, seeing the hurt of her mistrust in their eyes. "But now there is a bishop and soldiers directly from Rome who might recognize me. Rome is a large city but I'm a bit infamous," she admitted with a rueful smile.

"After the Romans slaughtered my tribe and took my brother into their service, it did not take them long to learn he would never be a fit knight. A hunting accident had left one leg lame," she explained. "But they had seen his skill on horseback and used him as a messenger. The Roman commander threatened to return to the tribe and wipe it out. Not knowing that had happened already, my brother complied."

"They killed them all? Your family?" Galahad asked, horrified.

"Yes," Kayleigh replied. Glancing at Gawain, she realized how far off she had misjudged him. She had told him this part of the story but he hadn't even told Galahad of it. "Everyone died except my brother, who had instructed me to hide in the grass outside our camp."

"I searched for years," she continued. "I could not stop. My brother, Evren," she breathed his name almost reverently, "he was all I had left."

Tristan took her hand in his. It was cold and clammy.

Kayleigh gave him a fragile smile and continued. "He became regarded as the fastest rider in the legion. Word made it to the ear of a man in Rome who had a passion for the races at the Circus Maximus. This man, Faustulus, bought Evren from the commander."

"Could he do that?" Lancelot wondered. It sounded shady selling a messenger as a slave.

Kayleigh shrugged. "Unlike most Sarmatians, our tribe had no pact with the Romans. He was considered spoils of war."

"Soon," she continued, "he became renown through the empire of his racing skills, with horses and chariots alike. When I arrived in Rome, I went to the Circus to find him and learned his fate. There was nothing I could do but offer my freedom to Faustulus—"

"You sold yourself into slavery?!" Gawain jumped up, finding his voice. "Are you insane?"

"Yes, I did. And no, I'm not," Kayleigh frowned. "I wish I could say I regretted my decision, but I can't." An overwhelming sense of peace came over her as she made that realization. "If it had only given me one more day with Evren, I wouldn't have regretted it, even after everything that followed."

Thinking of his own brother, Gawain sat silently back down. He didn't know if he could do what Kayleigh did, but he longed—more than anything—to spend one more day with his brother.

"What followed?" Galahad asked.

"Two years of happiness," Kayleigh smiled. "Faustulus was a decent man. I worked and cared for the horses alongside Evren, helped him practice, and watched him race in the Circus. He taught me how to map out a building in my mind, how to read people, and how to take advantage of my opponents' weaknesses in battle."

"And he was fine with you being a slave?" Lancelot asked incredulously.

"Gods no!" Kayleigh laughed. "He was furious! Especially when he heard what befell our tribe." She sobered. "But Faustulus had paid me for my freedom. I only awaited the day my brother had earned enough money through racing to buy back his own freedom."

"But he never had the chance," Lancelot predicted.

"No," Kayleigh agreed. "It was ruled an accident, but everyone knew Pervidius had sabotaged his chariot. He hated Evren for his success."

Tristan spat venomously at the man's name.

"I gathered my belongings and presented my purse to Faustulus to buy back my freedom but someone had beaten me to it." Kayleigh hugged Tristan's jacket closer around her. "Faustulus was a decent man but I had sorely underestimated his greediness. I was sold for much more than I had—more than I could ever earn—to Pervidius."

"Oath-breaker scum!" Lancelot cursed. He had known about Pervidius being Evren's murderer but not about this. All the nightmares she had had made more sense to him now.

Kayleigh's gaze shifted down to the ground. "I don't know what amount of time passed between becoming his slave and running away. It was too long, though."

"How did you get away?" Gawain asked.

Kayleigh looked up into his eyes and something there would not let him look away. "I killed him."

"Well, that's one less thing I have to do after receiving my discharge papers," Lancelot commented with a sadistic grin.

The other knights agreed wholeheartedly.

"I almost wish I hadn't." Kayleigh continued quickly at the stares she received, "I'm glad he's dead. It was my methods… I was a coward. I dishonored my brother's memory."

Tristan sat quietly as the other three knights objected simultaneously. "You don't understand," Kayleigh tried interrupting them. "He wasn't the only one—" Forgetting her wound, she stood up in attempt to be heard over the commotion. A shock of pain ran through her leg as the skin and muscle pulled on the blister. Tristan caught her as her leg gave way.

"You've done more than enough confessing for the day," he said as he swept her gently into his arms, mindful not to put any added tension to her injured leg. Kayleigh gave the knights a hopeless glance as she wound her arms around his neck. Turning, he began the short walk back to the wagon, all the while listening to the conversation continue in their absence.

"Tristan knew the whole time, didn't he?" Gawain asked suspiciously.

Lancelot scoffed, "Of course he did, you dolt."

A ball of snow hit its mark. "Hey!"

"Tristan?" He turned his attention away from the ensuing fight and onto the woman in his arms.

"Hmm."

"Don't take me back to the wagon."

He stopped and looked down at her quizzically.

"Let me stay with you," she beseeched.

"Of course." He made for the trees where he had left his horse and his pack. He set Kayleigh on her feet and quickly prepared a spot for them, clearing snow away with his boot. They sat cradled in the roots of a massive tree, leaning back against its solid trunk. Tristan wrapped his cloak around them as Kayleigh rested her head against his shoulder.

She hadn't realized how tired she was until she fought to keep her eyes open. "If I'm caught—"

"I won't let that happen," he swore.

"Please, Tristan," she put her hand against his chest, "this is important."

He gave her a reluctant nod.

"If I'm caught, I don't want you to do anything that might jeopardize your freedom."

Beneath her, his body tensed. "What are you saying?"

"I'm releasing you from your oath. I want you to let them take me."

"How can you ask that of me?!" He almost pulled away from her, but she had grasped his shirt, anticipating this.

"The cost would be too much for me to bear, otherwise." She turned, leaning into him, and reached up to touch his face. His jaw twitched under her fingers. He was angry at her but she didn't care. Time was growing short. "Tristan, I love you."

He met her eyes then, letting his defenses fall. "Then you know why I cannot accept this."

Kayleigh nodded, resting her cheek against his chest, listening to his strong, steady heartbeat.

He loved her, too.


	54. Return

Sorry all for the long wait. It's been a horrible and wonderful few months. Anyway, the next chapter will also be along soon. I'm in revision mode already. Suggestions/ideas requested as always!

* * *

Free.

_The sky above her was blue. Under were forests, streams, and valleys, gliding past her vision. A grey cloud drifted before her and she continued through without a thought. Her eyes burned and for a moment, and she could not breathe. Circling to the left, she cleared the smoke and looked down upon an ocean of men. Never before had she seen them massed in such number. Ignoring the urge to return to her master's arm, she swooped lower, sharp eyes darting._

_The knights were among the ocean, small glimmers of light fighting dark beings. The blue people were amongst them, long-time enemies turned allies in desperation. And they fought desperately. Finally, she found her master, his curved sword embedded in his own side. His face was upturned, eyes searching and finding hers. His blood spattered lips curled slightly before the sword was ripped from his side and he was cut down. She gave a cry, her shrill voice echoing through the valley._

"No!" Kayleigh woke with a start, jolting upright. The sudden movement ripped at her wound and she cursed. On a branch nearby, the hawk rustled her feathers in annoyance at being awoken.

"What is it?" Tristan asked, blade at the ready.

The dying full moon was only a hand span above the horizon. It would be dawn soon, but the morning was still quiet.

Tristan put his sword down. "Another dream?"

The bird tilted her head at Kayleigh in the faint light.

"I'm not certain." Kayleigh replied, that troubled line that Tristan had mistakenly pointed out before appeared on her forehead.

"A vision?"

She met his eyes, the same from her dream, only now reflecting concern. "I hope not."

"Tell me."

After she had finished, she rose carefully to her feet, testing the strength of her wounded leg. There was a dull, deep ache, and of course the pulling, stinging of her skin from the burn, but it wasn't unbearable. "You should ride ahead to warn them at the fort, just in case," she told him, helping him pack up camp.

"I will ride ahead to check the roads if Arthur wills it, but I'm not leaving you alone," he replied, securing his equipment to his horse.

"I'm not alone anymore, remember?"

Tristan scoffed, uncomforted by the notion. "We'll be gone by the time the Saxons get to the Wall, anyway." Tristan reasoned. "As long as we get moving soon."

"Right," Kayleigh replied, taking the hint. She frowned. "How am I supposed to ride in this?" Kayleigh asked, picking at the delicate fabric of the pink dress she wore.

"You're not," Tristan replied, swinging up into his saddle. "I must find Arthur. Stay in the wagon."

"Hrph," Kayleigh crossed her arms and watched him ride away. "Stay in the wagon," she repeated mockingly as she began her short trek back to said wagon.

It seemed to Kayleigh to take hours for the caravan to begin moving again. Absentmindedly, she tapped her foot against the floor of the cart.

Guinevere stared at her. "Must you do that?"

"Do what?"

Guinevere gestured. Kayleigh shrugged and stilled.

"Kay," Dagonet groaned.

"I'm here," Kayleigh moved to sit next to him and took his hand.

"Stupid girl," he coughed out, grasping his injured side.

"Don't move," Fulcinia admonished.

Kayleigh, taken aback, withdrew her hand. "Me?" She crossed her arms. "What about you, running out to meet the Saxons alone with naught but an axe?"

"Different." Dagonet settled back, grimacing. "It is my duty—"

"Oh you men and duty!" Kayleigh cried out in frustration. She felt the eyes of the other women watching and switched to their mother tongue. "Is it your duty to act as sacrificial lamb?"

He took her hand back. "To protect the ones I love."

"Me too," she squeezed his hand.

He squinted. "Are you wearing a dress?"

Kayleigh laughed. "Not for long. We'll be back at the wall soon. Now rest."

"Pity," Dagonet smiled and closed his eyes.

Kayleigh settled back into her own spot in the cart and pulled out her torn and bloodied pants and began trying to mend them with borrowed needle and thread. The cart jostled and the needle jabbed into her thumb. Cursing, she brought her thumb to her mouth to suck the blood away.

"Need help?" Guinevere asked, trying to hide a smile.

"No," Kayleigh replied, resuming her work.

"Do you ever accept help?"

"Not willingly." Kayleigh admitted.

"What are you afraid of?" Guinevere asked curiously, head tilting. "What is the worst that could happen by accepting help?"

Kayleigh looked up from her sewing project and stared. "You could do a worse job stitching than me, though unlikely." She shrugged. "You could pull out a knife and shed it to pieces. I would be stuck in this dress forever."

Guinevere's eyebrows rose. "A bit dramatic, don't you think?"

She thought of the dream she had, where she was recognized and arrested for the death of Pervidius and his household, and hauled back to Rome for punishment. Glancing over at Guinevere, she reimagined it, only this time, wearing a dress. "No," Kayleigh replied. "I don't know you. I don't trust you. And I have little faith in humanity."

"The world is a cruel place," Guinevere started.

Kayleigh laughed, a noise bitter and abrupt. "What do you know of the world? This small piece of rock that you've seen?"

Guinevere's chin rose. "I belong to this land," she stated. "Why should I leave it? The Romans have tried to take it for their own."

"Tried," Kayleigh echoed. "And now that they're leaving you want their help?"

"No—"

"Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do," Kayleigh interrupted. "Now that there's a more deadly and urgent danger to your people, you want to recruit those whose brothers you've killed."

"We need Arthur," Guinevere said. "Only Arthur."

"Arthur is Roman," Kayleigh pointed out.

"His mother had our blood running in her veins and so does he."

"It's pretty clear which side he chose to follow."

"The wrong side," Guinevere agreed. "Even he realizes this now."

Kayleigh shrugged, bringing the thread to her teeth and breaking it. She inspected her work and pulled the edges testing the stitches. It wasn't neat but it would hold. "When the knights get back to the wall, they'll receive their discharge papers and leave this accursed island behind," she stated, slipping the pants on underneath her dress. "And I'll be with them," she said with more conviction than she felt.

Dagonet's eyes were closed and Lucan was napping, his head pillowed on Fulcinia's lap. Kayleigh turned her back to them and striped off the humiliating dress, replacing it with her old stained shirt. She returned it to Fulcinia along with the needle and thread, thanking her.

"I will not run," Guinevere stated.

Kayleigh glanced back at her from the entrance of the wagon. "Then I wish you luck," she stated. "I will protect my people as fiercely as you do yours. And this is not our fight." Feeling better in her own clothing, she jumped from the wagon. A jolt of pain shot up her leg at the impact of the ground and she nearly stumbled. She limped out of the way and sat on a rock on the side of the path.

They had finally made their way from the high altitude of the mountains and the snow into a warmer, green valley that still clung to the hope of a late summer. A hope that Kayleigh wasn't feeling at the moment. After so long, she had something resembling a family here but for how long? There were leagues of Roman territory to cross before returning to their homeland. Even if she evaded capture here, how far would she get before someone realized what she was? She would have no papers of safe conduct through the empire as the knights would. They could protect and harbor her, but at what cost?

"Kayleigh?"

She looked up at Galahad and Gawain who had brought their horses to a halt near her.

"Is your leg bothering you?" Galahad asked.

"A bit," she admitted.

"Will you ride with us?"

Kayleigh nodded and took Galahad's proffered hand as he helped her up behind him.

"Thank you," she breathed, taken back by the pain such a simple motion had caused.

Gawain watched her, keen as ever. "Shouldn't you be in the cart?"

"It was getting stifling in there."

"A Roman Lady, a serf boy, a Woad, and a Sarmatian," Galahad thought aloud. "I can imagine."

"It sounds like a beginning of a joke," Gawain laughed.

"A bad one," Galahad told Kayleigh, "Just his type."

She smiled at their easy banter wondering if she would ever be a part of it again. It was too awkward still and she did not share their heart. They were riding toward their freedom and she had so far yet to travel before she reached her own.

"You alright Kayleigh?" Galahad asked, having no reply.

"You are very quiet." Gawain observed.

"I was just thinking," Kayleigh replied. "When you go back to Sarmatia, I hope you don't find it too changed," she thought of the Huns' advance that forced her to start her quest to find her brother. She glanced at Gawain, his golden curls in a tangle down his back, a grisly beard covering a handsome face beneath. "I hope you find a pretty Sarmatian girl to wed, Gawain."

She leaned forward, taking the reins from Galahad and bringing them to a stop. "And I hope more than anything that you find your family, Galahad." She swung her leg over and slid off the horse. "Find them well."

"You are going with us right?" Gawain asked as she began walking away.

"I hope so," she replied before continuing on.

She walked among the people for some time listening to stories and sharing her own. She traded her warm red cloak for a homely threadbare shawl, wrapping it around her shoulders in time for Toby find her, bound up to her, and knock her into the dirt. A few villagers around her laughed and offered helping hands but she waved them away and they continued on without her.

"Oh, Toby!" She scratched behind his ears and he sat, enjoying the treatment. "What's a girl to do? I would almost rather face the Saxons and my end out here than face what may await me at the Wall." The dog's head tilted as if trying to translate her words into something he could understand. "You would be alright without me." The dog whined, sensing her mood. "Don't cry! You'll make me cry!" she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down with her. "Good boy."

"Since when have you started lying with dogs, Kayleigh? Oh how you've fallen."

"Attack, Toby," she commanded. The dog bolted toward the knight, barking, then stopped short and jumped on Lancelot, who made an effort to look frightened. Toby bolted back to Kayleigh, barking, happy to play this old game. "Good boy," she repeated and hauled herself to her feet.

"What are you doing out here?" Lancelot asked.

"Just two old strays bonding."

"Doesn't seem like a priority out here in Woad territory with Saxons hunting us," Lancelot said dryly.

Kayleigh shrugged. "Our priorities differ, I think."

"Do they?" Lancelot mounted and pulled Kayleigh up in front of him. "I want to get out of here." He kicked the horse into a trot to catch up with the caravan.

"As do I," Kayleigh replied softly.

"But?" Lancelot asked.

"But I think our destinations will not be the same. You will go home, seek out your tribe, hopefully find it."

"And you?"

"I fear if I do leave this land, it will not be under my own will."

Lancelot reined in sharply, causing Kayleigh to lurch forward unexpectedly. Lancelot wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her. "What are you saying?"

"I've killed innocents, Lancelot, not just Pervidious," Kayleigh confessed. "If the Bishop and his men recognize me, I'm going back to Rome to be executed."

"I won't let that happen—"

"Tristan says the same thing. How can I do that to you or him, or any of the knights?" Kayleigh shook her head. "I can't. After surviving fifteen years of fighting here, I cannot let you forfeit your freedom now, not for me."

"What's the point of freedom if you cannot chose what to fight for?" Lancelot pointed out.

"I've escaped the Romans twice now. Perhaps I will do it again," she reasoned. "If I am caught, I will go willingly."

"Kayleigh—"

"Please Lancelot, listen. Tristan will not accept this, but you need to. Please keep them all out of trouble. I will think of something if it comes to it. It is a long journey back to Rome."

Lancelot nodded reluctantly. "Tristan… he's a lucky man."

Lancelot's arm loosened on her waist as he withdrew. Kayleigh caught his arm grasping it against her. He looked down at her and saw unbridled fear. He nodded, kicking his horse back to a trot and held her tight to him.

"Thank you," she whispered.

When Tristan returned, he eyed the two curiously but said nothing. They had each been thinking of the best plan to get Kayleigh past the wall unnoticed and hidden until the Bishop and his guards departed. They spoke about it at length, bringing up the rear of the caravan just out of earshot of eavesdroppers. With the plan finalized, Kayleigh slid from Lancelot's horse to the ground.

"You still owe me a pair of pants," she told Lancelot.

Lancelot grinned and opened his mouth to reply. Then he glanced to Tristan and thought better of it. Instead, he just laughed and rode away, whistling for Toby to follow. The mutt glanced up at Kayleigh and she gave him a pat on the head. "Go, boy," she commanded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Tristan shook his head at Lancelot. "He's finally learning," he stated as he dismounted.

"You'll have him trained in no time," Kayleigh replied, stepping into his arms.

Tristan scoffed. "It only took fifteen years to get this far."

Kayleigh smiled against his armored chest. She wished there was time to feel his bare skin against hers one last time. He must've sensed her thoughts as he cupped her face in his callused hands and kissed her intently. "We will have a lifetime of these," he assured her.

Kayleigh nodded, not trusting her own voice.

He gave her one last kiss before mounting and joining the other knights at the head of the caravan. Kayleigh stood a moment gathering her defenses and courage before putting one foot ahead of the other.

A murmur went through the villagers as the Wall came into view, its standards snapping in the wind high above. Their pace quickened at the sight of safety and Kayleigh struggled to blend in as her heals itched to dig into the earthen road right there and sprout roots. Instead, she raised the shawl over her hair and trudged forward.


	55. Affirmation of a Damned Soul

An elderly man fell behind at the quickened pace and Kayleigh went to him, offering her arm. He smiled up at her in a toothless grin and they hobbled onward together.

Kayleigh couldn't see much through the mass of people ahead of her. It wasn't until she stepped past the doors of the Wall that she became alarmed. Soldiers lined either side of the road from the Wall to as far as she could see. They must've turned out the whole garrison, she thought warily. This was either quite a homecoming or a manhunt. The villagers loved it, so Kayleigh smiled on the outside while her stomach roiled on the inside.

As she and the elder passed, the columns slid in behind them forming a block of marching soldiers. There was no way to slip away unseen. Once they were within the fortress walls, Kayleigh stopped, grasping the old man's arm. "Please," she said to the nearest soldier, "My grandfather is old and it has been a long journey. He needs to rest."

"He's survived the journey, he'll survive another few steps," the soldier replied. "Keep moving."

Grandfather or not, Kayleigh wanted to punch the soldier in the nose. But that would only draw attention. They were all herded into the courtyard of the fortress. It was crowded and stifling with the horses and carts and milling people. By the time Kayleigh arrived, they were already unloading Dagonet in a litter.

The Bishop's voice rose amid the clamor of confusion. "Welcome back, Arthur and his knights! Your mission has been accomplished and you may receive your discharge papers." He put a hand up. "But first… Arthur, there is a fugitive among you."

"What?" Arthur asked. "What does this have to do with my knights? They've earned their freedom—"

"Yes, no doubt," Germanius replied. "I am sure neither you nor your knights were aware. However, we know she has been hiding under your nose."

"She?" Arthur shook his head, genuinely confused.

Kayleigh took a step back, bumping into a soldier. He glared down at her. They were emptying the cart, studying a defiant Guinevere and outraged Fulcinia.

"My apologies," the Bishop addressed Fulcinia who pledged the Pope would hear of their mistreatment.

Germanius nodded to a man nearby who blew a horn in signal. The Bishop's soldiers began singling out women in the crowd. Screams erupted from the villagers.

"Stop this immediately," Arthur shouted.

"They take my orders, Arthur, not yours," the bishop replied calmly. "No harm will come to those who are innocent."

Kayleigh was shoved forward to join the rest of the women. One man was going through the group of women and inspecting them.

"This is ridiculous," Arthur was furious. "All these women were from beyond the wall. They have been through enough!"

"Not all of them."

The man came before Kayleigh. She kept the shawl over her head and kept her eyes downcast. He yanked her chin up and their eyes met. It was the bishop's guardsman she had bumped into in the street the night before their mission.

"You," he gasped. "It's you."

Kayleigh yanked her head away, pulled back her arm and punched him square in the face. He went down without a word but it had been seen and she was hauled forward. Toby bolted in to defend her, but was kicked aside by the soldier. He landed hard and rolled to a stop in the dirt before the knights. "Toby!" Kayleigh cried out, trying to break free from the soldier's hold on her to run to his side.

Lancelot bent down. "He's alright, just stunned."

She looked at Germanius, with his smug grin and wished she could permanently wipe it from his face. She looked at Arthur, who stood completely baffled. The knights watched anxiously, hands on their weapons.

"What is this?" Arthur asked. "She is one of mine."

One of Germanius' caterpillar eyebrows rose. "Then you _have_ been harboring a fugitive."

Arthur shook his head. "The goods that were stolen belonged to me. She has repaid the debt she owed. She is free to go."

"Free?" Germanius laughed. "I think not. We shall add thief to your list of crimes. Thief, runaway, murderer…"

Kayleigh smiled, looking just as feral and dangerous as Tristan. "It's not nearly as long as yours."

"Throw her in prison," the Bishop commanded his guard.

"No," Tristan hissed stepping forward. Lancelot stepped before him, stopping him, and Tristan glared at his fellow knight.

"Wait," Arthur interceded. "What proof do you have that this woman has committed these crimes you accuse her of?"

"Why, it's ingrained on her skin," Germanius replied. "Blessed by the heathen gods with a lightning bolt upon her palm," the bishop nodded at the man holding her right arm and he yanked her hand forward as Kayleigh struggled against him.

"Coincidental."

"The other scar is more specific," the Bishop added. "A slave brand on her left thigh with the insignia of Decius Aelius Pervidius."

A deep laugh erupted from Bors' stomach. "Slave? Kayleigh?" His laughter continued to fill the tense silence. "You've definitely got the wrong girl!"

"Kayleigh," Germanius repeated. "Yes, that is the murderer's name."

Bors caught his breath and quieted noticing his comrades did not find the situation as humorous as he.

"Now, let us see that slave brand," Germanius nodded to a nearby soldier who drew his dagger, the metal scraping ominously against the scabbard.

Tristan growled, shoving Lancelot out of the way. Germanius' guards drew their weapons a split second before the knights drew theirs. Villagers cried out in alarm.

"Hold!" Arthur's command rose above the din. "Hold!"

"Let us settle this in private," Arthur suggested. "Surely you don't intend to expose the girl before everyone."

"Of course he does," Tristan growled.

"This ends now," the Bishop decided. "One way or another."

The courtyard erupted with shouting.

"Leave her alone," a villager with her red cloak yelled.

"Murderer!" one of Germanius' guards called out.

"Pagan witch!" another yelled.

"Kay!" Lucan ran forward, angry tears in his eyes, "No!" Guinevere caught him before any harm could come of him.

Kayleigh's attempt at swallowing her panic only made her feel sick. The knights stood, each with his weapon of choice in hand, ready to defend her at the cost of their freedom, and perhaps their own lives. It made her heart break.

"Please," Kayleigh choked out. "Please, stop. Arthur…"

She would not address this Roman they called Bishop. His reputation was more notorious than hers. If she was to confess to a Roman, it would at least be one she respected.

The crowd grew silent, awaiting her words.

"Arthur, it's true. I have deceived you, all of you," her glance drifted across to Bors who stood gaping, to Lavina clutching onto Vanora on the outside the gate, to Jols who was avoiding her eyes, and to the villagers who she had just met. "For that, I am sorry."

"You will face God's judgment now," the Bishop announced.

"I have yet to confess," Kayleigh's voice rang off the shingled rooftops. If it is to be known that she is a murderer and a slave, she will have it known why.

"I admit I was deceived and branded as a slave," she continued. "A free woman, imprisoned and branded with a hot iron with the sigil of the man who killed my brother."

"That was an accident," the Bishop corrected her.

"So was Pervidius' death. Come to think of it, their deaths were quite identical," Kayleigh taunted him.

"Pervidius was murdered," Germanius insisted, face turning red with anger.

"Yes, I know."

"You confess."

"I confess to taking justice into my own hands because the rich and powerful care naught for the poor and powerless." Murmurs rolled through the assembly.

"Take her away," the Bishop ordered.

"I'm not done," Kayleigh announced. "I was burned, cut, beaten, and raped for months."

"A shame it was never reported," Germanius stated.

Tristan growled and Lancelot was forced to intervene again.

"The guards were having too much fun and the other slaves were too frightened. So when I saw my chance at freedom, I took it," Kayleigh admitted.

"And killed innocents in the process."

"Yes," Kayleigh nodded. "When you treat a human being as an animal for long enough, they begin to act like one." She turned to Arthur. "It took a two month sea voyage, hiding in the belly of a supply ship near starvation to find that humanity again."

Arthur stared at her, green eyes reflecting a mixture of horror, pity, and respect.

Her gaze settled on the knights, "Then years of healing to trust again. What I did to those people," Kayleigh shook her head, unable to find the words to describe the horror and regret she felt at what she had done, "I can't change the past. I can only hope to redeem myself in the future."

Germanius scoffed, "It's much too late for that."

"Know this," she warned, "everything you have planned for me, I've already survived. And I will overcome again."

"Unfortunately for you, God's justice demands your death," the Bishop smirked. "A life for a life."

"Good luck with that!" Bors laughed.

"Arthur, I trust your knights will stay out of this matter," Germanius suggested.

"You shouldn't trust that I will," Arthur replied icily.

"They will," Kayleigh looked at the knights in turn, her eyes coming to a rest on Tristan. She hoped he understood. "I'm tired of running."

"Take her away," the Bishop ordered.

The guards began to turn her away. "Take care of them," she called over her shoulder at Arthur.

* * *

AN: We are coming down to the wire! I have two possible endings here. I've been going back and forth in my head for months but still haven't decided. What would you like to read? Romance or tragedy? Review and let me know.


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